the baby, myself.

my skin smells like water,
the little beads that sit moist and still. 
what if i recorded all my sexual
fantasies played out by just me?
could i gather an audience to
keep me dripping with brine?
but i am not bursting with pride,
by now

boil me away,
i cannot stay
i told you
i cannot stay

throw me in a sock, 
with the rest of the rocks
i am hard and handy,
thats me

but i was a baby myself,
is what we didn't understand
and i couldn't take a break
in the heart of two little
beats that could only
stop and start
at the exact same time

Reviews

[Dark Twain]

This poem made my mouth water.

[Collect-Eye]

Jesus

ok that was my initial reaction..I think it's the way it's framed in such epic slow motion that gets me