Strangle

The mind is a

LOUD place to be

even in the shower

l

  e

    aning

against the wall

hands wrap—around—ped

the neck

of the shower head

like a woman’s throat.

It’s a LOUD

place to be

with bold faced questions:

“Who the fuck is she?”

and italicized answers:

“What? YOU don’t know?”

What a fucking surprise.

Beneath the hot water,

scalding every inch of your

naked…

…writhing…

body

(Oh god, I should’ve given it more effort last night)

is where the demons are

crawling through the pipes

pouring over our heads

and spilling into our ears

down my stomach

around your breasts

between your thighs…

(Maybe we could fuck before she goes to work)

as I grow harder again

but you say

you’re not in the mood

“Then why are you in here with me?”

“Because I’m in a hurry to leave you behind.”

And as you step

o u t

of the way

and

o u t

of my life

all I can hear

is a brief

moment

of silence

for the men who came before me