Long hair, long limbs, long teeth. I follow, I meander, I stumble…. aimless in your carnage. I have no purpose beyond your hips, bones and skin that I study like ancient cartographers, as mysterious as the ends of the Earth and as dangerous as typhoons to paper ships.
I worship demons, because I’ve had no divinity in my life. My hand passes through God, and I’m left with dew sparkles on my arm hair. I press my hand against your molten skin and my fingerprints melt into your image. You give me coins for wine, and I strap the empty bottles to my shoulderblades. I fly into the death sun.
I wake up on damp concrete, surrounded by puddles of my own and others, and you unzip me to release the light. Your moans echo around the meaningless places – subway tunnels, bus shelters and railway arches. Empty eyes and gasping sighs, we pound and thrust through the soft culture, trying to find a vacuum where our sounds, voices, laughter and tears will only concern each other and no one else.
I kneel at your long skirt and you reveal three inches of ankle gnarled by scabs and infection. The boys who nibble you aren’t cleaning their teeth properly. Over my shoulder, I see the dark shadow of the public school. Our future, clamped in rotten gums. I wish you didn’t go there. You’re too smart to be earning money from the dull and diseased. You’re too young to be limping.