All but lust is a fool’s lie

I just want to f***
(ing write about) you
let your twisted fantasies
of all things grim, black and blue
f*** the naïve innocence out of me
let me be your animal
inject me with your sin
slide your tobacco-drenched fingers
out my s*x and in our lips
taste my salt and daytime gin
the sweet and sour flavour lingers
I am your lamb, quivering
in aural pleasure of heavy bass
happily meek under the insatiable twitch
of your calloused palm
pressed hard over my canvas face
those artist fingers brush
painting our lust
in saliva and sticky lip balm
I wait for your breath
we breathe together
or we don’t breathe at all
you take me higher
you take me
bent over and chained
to the black antique table
addicted to your scentless darkness
I come
back for more black
you crucify me with satin ropes
in the doorless doorway
with hooks nailed in the eaves
where a red lamp swings
painting sultry iridescent glow
on my limp lamb limbs
all trust surrendered, my breathing slows
as a disturbed set of black eyes
snake hungrily over my naked bones
take my control I don’t want it
for the days with you
and for hard liquor
f***ing and smoking
and the nights
well they’re for coffee,
conversations and art

Words by Zoe Kassiotis

This piece was originally published in Edition 30.

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