Saturday, 5am, Sand and Savages

Frame by Frame
You deposit grubby pearls
In my mouth, shoulders
Ground to shingle by
Acid bath knees.

The remotest kiss,
Lips linked by a
Flute of ochre thick shit,
I'm a fluid urn
Under your haemhorrageing weight.

Where the arousal of denial
Meets the epiphany of provision,
We don't touch, do we?
Those lips have ringed
Cold steel and wealthy cocks.

I'm a loving void,
Not a client or a gun.
I'll channel your transfusion;
Drink you to my ruin,
And be grateful.

Right now, this beach
Could yield every hope's blossom
Please make the tattoos
Of your violence indelible,
Deeper, harder, more.

How could I not love you?