The Wolf's Howl

Blinders

Tue, 27 Sep 2011 16:37:11 -0400

No left, no right.

Just straight.

Quickest way between two points.

Stallion-ized, bronco-ed

All I see is you,

My mare. My life. My love.

Fists with a Side of Asphyxiation and Ejaculation

Tue, 27 Sep 2011 13:37:05 -0400

I took a walk down Paper Street

To learn how to make soap

With my

Imaginary friend.

His name was Chuck.

We shared a beer;

I still remember the frothiness

Greeting my lips and

Singeing bitterness on my taste buds.

I said “Chuck. Why do we fight?”

Chuck looks down between his legs

And says, “To struggle.”

I drink it in, the two words

That were originally addressed to his

Penis.

I ask “What makes you write the way you do?”

He says, “No else does. And because I can”

I swallow the bottle neck and contemplate

How a man makes me an asphyxiophile

With a short story called

“Guts.”

I asked Chuck if that was weird. That he can

Tell me to hold my breath

While tells me how Middle Eastern men

Jack off.

He says “No. It would be weird if you

Wanted to see a Middle Eastern man

Jack off.”

I bite my fingernail until it almost bleeds

As I try to block out the image of

Masturbating Jordanians

As I say goodbye.

I close my eyes, breathe in deep,

And click my red Air Maxes three times

And I wake up to four bony knuckles

Smashing against my mandible.

Why do we fight?

To mask our homoerotic conversations with

Our favorite authors?

To be one of the guys? To be gay without being

Gay?

I don’t know and I’m not sure if I’ll

Ever know.

Living Necrophilia

Mon, 26 Sep 2011 22:02:00 -0400

She loves nothing.

She sits upon her stoop,

Hollow and breathless.

Vacant face, no smile and no frown.

It is this shell of a being that I want.

It is the emptiness that infatuates me.

A ghost of which I yearn;

I love the way she lacks.