free love for a half hour

his cock

was the tower

of babel.

with a language,

i understood.

and he knew,

my tongue.

i knew his

testicles.

in my mouth,

and out.

when he spoke

to me,

my lungs

filled,

with a brown cloud.

i was born,

with a cancer,

and will parish,

from it.

but he

didn’t mind,

when he took

my eyes,

and buried them.

crucified,

my ears.

making me,

laugh out-loud.

in broad daylight,

taking away,

my shame.

painting it,

sarcastic blue.

placing it,

in the trash.

making me,

a feast.

to eat away,

my innocence.

that kept me,

in the dark.

i was

his nourishment,

he quenched

my thirst.

and left some,

on my chin.

thirty years is,

a half hour.

and i wonder,

if i’m

doing it right.

on the cushions,

when he,

is fucking me.

like buddha

would.

he makes,

me dream,

in color.

puts air

in my lungs,

critiques my verse,

and i keep climbing,

for another

thiry minutes.

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