Hey, folks! I’ve been having a really rough time with my mental health, and writing whole blog posts is a bit beyond me at the moment. However, apparently writing poetry (mostly while stoned) is not beyond me, so I wrote some poetry about sex. I’m really self-conscious about my poetry – even, like, the ridiculous poem I wrote about Christmas – so please be kind about it. And if poetry isn’t your thing, don’t worry, because I do have a few blog post ideas up my sleeve and I might one day soon have enough executive function to actually write and publish them.
how do you write poetry about people having sex?
how do you make magical someone
(or maybe more than one someone)
mashing their body against yours –
or how do you speak that magic to strangers,
without letting some of it be stolen by the breeze
impossible to translate in its sweetness
how do you say, convincingly,
that even as the hot-wax-sting bit your skin
the flame on the candle was beautiful
or that feeling fingers stretch your cunt
felt so good, felt so fucking good
that when you came, you felt God
how do you explain, fully,
that you bit her because you love her –
and she loves you in part because you bit her
and that your bruises are like love notes
left liberally across your flesh
along with licks and kisses
how can you replicate in words the dark glow of the dungeon
where you made half your closest friends
and where you once got choked half-unconscious
or the sound of cum hitting your skin, the heat of it
the heat of other people’s holes around your fingers
and the way their muscles tighten to hold your hand
how do you talk beautifully about the twitch of a dick in your mouth
the texture of someone’s scrotum under your tongue
and the melody of moans you can elicit with your lips
how do you bottle the lightning that arcs between you?
how do you capture the magic and the mess?
how do you write poetry about people having sex?