Fucking in a Tired Form

by reeves singleton

he sits on the bed’s edge and opens his mouth my fingers enter and play like worms in soil gums glistening glimmering purple the dog whines and kindly hides a bark as the congregation concludes that the world is void and sweat pools oceans that yellow their blanket

he smothers under the blanket fabric and flesh crawl into his mouth dust mites clog every void building an angular home in soil but skin lingers when it’s worn down to the bark like romans and their purple

one of his eyes bled purple but the doctor patched it like the baby’s blanket he moaned when it happened, a bestial bark escaped from throat and spewed from a broken mouth he fell into childhood and was happy among root, leaf, and soil resigned to life’s happy void

maybe bliss can be seized from the gray void colors rearranged and blurred into the king’s purple under nights flecked with clean stars like eggs in soil the fire took all warmth when it lusted for our blanket lovely teeth still betray life when coaxed from the mouth and new trees grow with new bark

christmas day and they ate candy bark then slept with gifts ripped from a far off void booze splashed like new age bleach into every burnt mouth companions’ flesh worked into softness bloated and purple every future stains the blanket a new fruit conceived in sopping soil

abject limpness yearns to imitate wet and drying soil and give soul to womb-bound bark but that won’t happen and the want forms tears under the blanket no hunger arises for that warm and moist void toes lose blood and swell purple but he still has his beautiful mouth

eventually the soil fails and we are left with the void and all we have is rough bark for our blanket the last hiding place is the purple of our mouth