IMPORTANT POST-COITAL SPEECH, MEMORISE!

in the morning you say 'i look like shit'

which means i have to say 'no you don’t'

which means you will say 'yes i do'

i will eat frosties

and you will eat half an apple

because you are trying to make your thighs disappear

maybe your whole body will evaporate

and leave behind your vagina

which i will show to my friends

and they will snigger

saying 'she's sort of boring man'

if i had to give you a tip

then the tip would be that you put out too early

and that you should string men along more

because they aren’t going to stay for the conversation

i’m not sure what you are hoping to achieve

by telling me how many times you shampoo

before i penetrate you

and then also after

i have made an open book with my hands

and am pressing it against my mouth

saying 'oh god'

trying to hide from you

(Ben Brooks is available for private webcam shows costing 6 british pounds or four hundred american dollars per hour or nothing for ana carrete who survived an earthquake and peed. He works as an escort thereisafuckingmothinhere.)

WENT TO IOWA, FELT LIKE A CORNFIELD

Went to Iowa, felt like a cornfield of racoon’s blood. I slept all night in a bed of drinking straws. I went around in the morning feeling like a sock of milk. When the dog barks I cover my ears. I go around like this. I cough salt water. The cough echoes around the bare walls of the basement. I don’t cry on the airplane.

I HAVE TWO TWO-BY-FOURS

I have two two-by-fours crossed on the top of my head. While I try to sleep your mother is walking from bed room to empty bed room. She tries to sleep in a child’s bed while I hold very still so that I don’t lose anything important. When she makes it to the couch I imagine myself pulled apart by a gas-powered ax. The fumes are everywhere, especially in your dreams and I promise you that I will do this every year, perfectly, until you know what to wear. When I come home I will be gathering Vitamin-C pills, I will be touching the inside of my mouth with a piece of plastic, I will be awake.

I AM THINKING ABOUT YOU

I am thinking about you as if you were a bottle of Vitamin C. I am not a doctor but I wear a white coat. I feel like a pervert. That is not exactly what I mean but I want you to cross me as if I were a street. You see your hair, the vitamins. You see I want to touch you very hard. Your mouth like a bottle of water. Your hair like an open shell.

(Thomas Patrick Levy is insecure.)

FUCK

My head is everywhere,
and nowhere

and each place in between

I go from one end
to the other
repeating to myself
so I don't forget

Remiss in my life
absent from

what was it I was absent from again?

I've forgotten that which I once knew,
remembered,
reminisced

I keep going back, to there
and life intervenes
like the stupid bitch it is
keeps me away

WORDS

words are funny

they have meanings
but then they have
meanings

some are quite
quotidian
like the way that quotidian isn't

I've written words
I didn't know the meaning to
shhhhh don't tell

I love the way words feel
the way they roll around in your mouth
before forcing their way out
over moistened tongue

they trip over your lips
sensuously
slide past perfect ivory canines
just a little too sharp
not like a vampire you inane Twilight reading twit

the tingle,
a minor vibration of the activation of
vocal cords
deep in that slender throat
the one you wanted so badly to taste

carbon dioxide pushed from the lungs
by a diaphragm
flexing, and releasing,
slowly, methodically
rhythmically
then just a little faster

hand gestures
gesticulations, wide, varied
sometimes too much

spilt beer and
fallen ashes

spent into the world

(Kristin Praeuner is a student, a writer, one of thousands you pass everyday on the street.  She writes because words come into her head and then refuse to leave her alone until she writes them down. She also writes here and is a member of this and this.)