One Sweaty Black Glove

One sweaty black glove
Sense of accomplishment
Perverse unlubricated satisfaction
Inescapable face-to-the-floor exhaustion

Let’s go again
Come on love, let’s
Let’s go again

The cold, the cold, the cold
When you throw me up
Up against the refrigerator
Up against the wall
Slam me back, and down, bruise me bloody
Cool me, break my fucking face in

Let’s go again
Come on love, let’s
Let’s go again

Fuck me
Fuck me
Fuck me up
Let your treatment of me reflect how useless I really am
Paint me up: sub-dermal hematoma and deep red
A rainbow of your distain, discontent, and contempt for everything
Make me your postmodern expressionist installation

Let’s go again
Come on love, let’s
Let’s go again

Let’s keep doing the definition
Let’s keep up this round-about
Let’s keep each other on the line
Let’s keep each other reeled in
With those deep-finding hooks

Let’s
Let’s
Let’s Love, Let’s.

 

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About Moly

Average, boring, self-involved human. Twitter: @CultOfCocktails Facebook: facebook.com/MolyTov
This entry was posted in Poetry, Written, Written Work and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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