Cock-heavy underneath things ---

You stumble into the room cow-heavy. I'm sure if this were a different time, I'd stick my head in the oven for you while you continued hanging your cock out of towels.
I hang out of my nightgown. That's my towel. I try to think past dizzy, night-screams.

Girls love getting fucked.
Stop talking to me, I'm randy.
Fuck you, you fucking cunt.
I can't think straight.
You could sit straight.
No.

I smoked a cigarette earlier. I know you can smell it. The heat, it doesn't let these smells escape us. Forty degree plus, in the second week of June. I know what it does to the stink, I've been down the street on garbage day, watching old ladies sort trash. I've been to your room.

Get closer; look me in the teeth,
vinatab-stained and crooked.

I'm reading and trying to write and I can see your cock rising. You're a strange breed, hopefully a poet.

Maybe when you're back from the gym,
I'll have found the reason I want you.
Maybe I'll be cleaner then;
Maybe I won't inadvertently say something abrupt, or suggestive, or awkward;
Maybe I won't guiltily think of that small cock I accidentally latched onto during my holiday from your drunken, dick-mouthed, slim-panted bed;
Maybe I won't barge into your room when you're sleeping next to that tree trunk of a baroness;

Won't breathe in the heat
of your dirty-underweared new bedroom.

You are a strange Scottish man with bug eyes and muscly arms. I think you're a beauty even though your beauty is all covered in grime. You're fucking twisted, looking up derogatory terms for every minority on the continents you've traveled but when we came up to lesbian, all you could think of was slut.

You can do better than that.
I'm going to break this fucking jar and eat your pickles.
Enjoy the glass as it cuts your throat.

I'd like to sit with you for hours, chugging back shots of the black label
you encouraged me to take more litres of.

Don't even think about drinking my whisky while I'm gone.
I need it to loosen me up so I can slander the world,
and then tell you that I'm absolutely partial to trees
and would never let you catch me near a fucking oven,
even if this country offered them to daily filth like you and I.