“Eo, just fuck me.”
His cheeks were draped scarlet
(a sight so rare for such an immodest boy)
transgressions betrayed
by his idle idolatry
scapegoat mind some demented foreplay to scraped up knees
Dim in the apogee of their fire
yet burning with a light all their own
the softest outline of their shadow
suggested a struggle
between predator and prey
instigator and wild card
but with a verity debatable because
he lay there—pinned
between blade & bedrock either
defiantly or dastardly
stir crazy or just plain crazy
ready to be
unfuckingmade
“Get these fucking pants off.”
Demanded on a breath of saltsweatspit–
deweydamp, caliginous
command
of course he complied
complicit in his tyrant’s
undress, nailing their
paracord husks to the
floor. their exoskeletons
undismantled, a bed made
of their conjugal writhings
his collapse imminent in the painful crest of his bone truss weaponry
all offensives alive within his infernal obscenity, his cumslut
reflex savage and hungry—desperate enough to take
but filthy enough to
beg.
“—please, fucking Gods Eo, hurry the fuck up—”
neither really knew if this was lust or murder
but he knew, oh
he fucking knew
he would die inside him someday
within the confined rasp of his lungshot
heartbeat, waning in the night
and he’d be so fucking happy
knowing this was
the mouth
the tongue
the noose
the knife
the bullet
the life
that
end
ed
hi
m
.
In an instant: Eoran’s shirt was elsewhere
legs split across the anelace of his lovers hips
gaze gone to hell and back
accompanied by a fury brought to his insolent mouth
gripping teeth with claw
always (always) he made it such a production
the shape of his mouth
(open and lewd)
the arc of his spine
(the curve of his chest)
the aggression in his bones
(the fight in his fingers)
as he threw his weight around
took him
took him
(fit his body like a glove)
always (always) saw to his needs before his own
in some roundabout way
under some hastily constructed smokescreen that made him seem more unaffected than he was
like he was not completely fucking exhilarated by his view
(of the strife upon which he perched)
every single time
time and time again.
“Feel me, Kasse.”
Bereaved like a lover left longing
he trawled the night to find his grasp
caught it and gave it higher purpose
against the tender flesh of his abdomen—
so bright and bare, that fleshy holding of penetralia
—with the trust that he would do his best
despite how easy it’d be to do his worst
with the victuals he had been given
& the access he had been encouraged.
It was impossible not to
feel him, Kasse
his nephrite body a malfunction’s arc, convulsive in his blood jade hue. Semi-precious boy trapped in this quartz clear casket body, he was
needle teeth
touched to ashes
Eoran burning Kasse’s revenant architecture to his ground
so quick to pray that he tore the truss of him apart
cracked his foundations with his fervor
his desperate crusade for
a vulgar reliquary.
“Aa-h—fuck you—”
He spat venom into his lover’s mouth
his saliva an antidote applied like a salve to every
quisling rupture he carved into his blood core.
He willed him deeper into his disarray
his mausoleum mirror that
reflected nothing when
he dipped beneath
his aphasic
surface.
make it hurt
hurt hurt.
Through boundaries unmade,
he was a slow persuasion
gentle pull with all the hostility of a siren song
meant to consume
through some weird dispossession
What was pain but a notch upon some unseen annulation?
What was pleasure but an obverse?
An equality? A limit?
A fragment,
among a champaign in the round
scattered in dispersion through a theater of clashing sensations
His devotion was clear
amid his frenzied intent
but that boy was always after something
thinking
scheming
enacting with haste
new, different, peculiar,
n o w
he aimed to overwhelm
with two senses of self on which to ruminate
to feel pain, pleasure
strain, his lack of restraint
his need on the brink of some sequestered apocalypse
un—heardseensung
aside from in the very depths of him
he was always overtaken
illiminimimmuntractable
fable of a boy and the
story that grew out his throat
all truths a string belied
pulled till he frayed that
abused wire rope voice
that noose in his mouth
slipknot tongued ‘til
fluency excoriare
debilitatum
dificil
inculca
pable
no better than a beast—
how could he know any fucking better
that mannerless feral thing
beautiful when tamed
couldn’t understand
human word, latchkey
body triggered by the
sound of police sirens,
dog catchers, wrought
iron door grates.
he, a holy terror unleashed
from the broken box heart
that drummed the bars of
two cages in time. he, an
idle threat of derealization
dressed in the skin of a boy
with the wherewithall to
cull his moaning to survive.
he, who reminded his echo
circumplexus diaphragm &
all appendage that he existed
on the whim of an avalanche—
ripped the mute from the bridge
of him and bid him witness,
bid him
speak.
he,
on
his
back.
he,
on
his
knees.
he
his
his
“Eo,” he prayed, oration ardent splendour in his shrine mouth plundered, his enraptured tremor intercession’s bleak orison,
always
begging.
“You’re—you’re killing me.”
The seal of his mouth with his teeth like knives, his
groundwater breath in panting waves ebbed and
eroded on his lover’s salt scattered shore affirmed
this was not a bad thing.
“Fight me—”
Words carried on a harried breath,
a gift from lungs sunk in an afflictive adulation
boggy beckon, tabific taunt
“—for your—”
Nails scraping chest in shameless cupidity
tender tracks of fulgurite, struck and allaying
a wicked parasite in a bellicose atmosphere,
watchful, haughty—enrapt down the delicate length of his nose,
warraying his love to their terminal end.
“—fucking life.”
If this was death, then he would incite it again and again
and again, again
like a vicious riot,
an unfurling array of
pent-up aggression and stress
incurred and
held in the tendons that
struggled against the
pallid swathing that
contained them.
There was something corrupt in him,
when he was debased and deconstructed
to his simplest state
—vile wirble, raffish form, ragmatical mind—
conspiring against the docility of his carefully curated demeanor
something unhinged, amoral
bloodthirsty and belligerent
flirting with the intrinsic fatalism he found becoming
against all reason
in the vessel
held beneath the battle of him
pulled into the onslaught of him.
He was
so in love
so in death
so consumed by
thoughts or actions
either going or gone
m.a.d.
Kasse shoved him off, so quick with that lightning petrichor radiating off his ozone shoulders. That ragged boy ridden, risen, coaxed to fight, suppressed Eoran with his haunted hands around his throat, saliva wet with the salt as an afterthought. Pressed him hard into the stone they’d come to rest against and settled between his thighs
unseeing with his grey eyes arresting
locked on his bed of coals
the pike he chose for
his own execution
welcomed him despite
his litany in twain
suspirited inenvy
his incineration
insinuated tight and held there
in his lover’s furnace rage belly
inter vivos inter se
forge(d) body
interred
entered
enteron
with his viscera’s
assent, willing to once
more make room for him as
Kasse slowly ground out his heart’s content(s).
“Fuck you,” he said softly, mouth to mouth. Resuscitation found his lips barely breathing despite their unanimous panting,
cruelty a tremble in his control
that deepening cry for
fucking help.
“Stay. Down.”