Sunday, September 14, 2008
art art art
so it is just art art art. If not a painting then a story. If not a story then a poem. If not a poem then it must be a song. But what of the flesh, the wonderful taste and touch and scent of it. But what of the body when the head has nothing to say for itself. What of my breasts and that place at the back of my neck that I want you to bite down on, but you rarely do. What of that nuzzling into my ear that makes my hair stand on end. Isn't that enough for me? Nuzzle and bite down. I don't know how else to tell you that yes, that is what I like the most. That is what I want from you. When your breath is on my neck then fuck the art and fuck the poetry and stick your fingers inside, no, your whole fist, all the world, because the body is more than just a song, it is the meaning of the universe. Fuck art and God and even my existential angst. Bite down on my neck. Please. Bite down.