We Held A Conversation That Changed Us

It is another Sunday morning.

You, my dear, are held in sweet slumber;

Dreaming of girls in gold masks reciting poetry.

Waking, you find me in the yellow kitchen

Slowly stirring thick honey and cream

Into your favourite coffee.

The white shift I’m wearing and the black curls around my neck

Are steamy and soft.

I roll your morning cigarettes

To the timpani of Ravel’s Bolero.

Looking out onto the lake, you keep your daydreams private.

I press myself up against the cool of the window,

Tracing maps into the frost for the birds.

Later we will hold hands across the breakfast table.

We will use care when taking long looks

Into each other’s eyes.

“What if we had a child?” I ask

The question rips the silence between us apart.

By the way your brown eyes drop down into your lap

I know I have started a conversation that will change us.

“I carry some terrible thoughts,” you say.

“I grew up in a home where I was tolerated, but not loved.

That does not make the stuff of fatherhood.”

In your answer and in your reply

I see the limits our love has reached

When I iron your pin-striped shirt before work,

I’ll slip the truth into its pocket.

Later, on the train to the office

With the sun streaking bright through the window

You’ll read the words I’ve scrawled:

“When you get home, I will be gone.

I see now that I attract broken hearts and the time to end this curse has come.”



Nocere: to do harm (lat.)

It is my heart

You scare

Inside the

Black Booth

Sits the chair

Purple ribbons

Tied Cleverly

Round my

Very small knees

We play parlour games

Only three rules

And Odds are I lose

Eight cards are spread

My Tarot is read

The Tower is drawn

The Worst Yet to Come

Bites like lightning across my flesh

Your hands round my neck

And I have lost my breath

I have lost my breath

Next the red dice

A dog’s throw

The smart of the blow

From your spoon

Across my breasts

And I have lost my breath

I have lost my breath

Round three

Will I meet the unseen?

Cornmeal across the floor

The veve is drawn

Maman Brigitte through the door

She binds me with curses

I twist in my seat

Black rum down my throat

Your dark laugh as I choke

And I have lost my breath

I have lost my breath

I beg for an early mercy

Your games so unworldly

The pleasure is all yours

It takes me two weeks to repair

And then I am back on that chair


I felt thirsty when reading your words;

I wished I could taste you, and fill my chest with your scent;

your scent behind your ears, between your legs,

There is something in your eyes that when I look at them, I’d tell myself -every single time- “I wish I could fuck her tonight; like an animal.”

Do you know what i mean?

I am just a plain guy; maybe even naive. I am kind and caring; genuinely caring. And I don’t lie or pretend to get away with what I want. I guess that may be my strength. I am sane and civilized, yet deeeeeeeeply primal; thirsty, hungry, but not for food or a drink.

Do you know what I mean?

No friction; I bury my face between your legs; you swallow my manhood… I wish I could fuck you tonight. Every minute of it.

I wish I could ravish you tonight.
To worship and ravage you at the same time; head to toes.

Long time ago. Long story…I am scared of whatever it is that people call love. Not even sure it exists.

I’m hungry, thirsty.

I want to take my tongue, my lips, my nose, my fingers, my hands, my body, my mind, my cock….to an out of this worldly feast…

I’d want to take you like an animal; to eat you like a hungry dog; to mount you like a bull, a horse, an animal that is reduced to his swollen balls and erect manhood; to his hormones.

I want your legs; I want you to swallow me inside you, between your legs; I want to suffocate myself with your lips…

I want to make you very sore and swollen between your legs when the morning finally comes but deeeeply pleasured, satisfied, and fulfilled.

Summer Swallowed.


Before that, you were



All that my eyes could fathom

With your pale skin

And skull tattoo

You shaved your head


Punkrock you said.


I was a seed

Sweating, tanned & freckly

We sat on the beach:

You read Kerouac out loud to me while we sipped stale beer and listened to Watts

And I did a silly dance

Bringing that secret smile

To your face

Your smell, all salty and warm. I was close enough to hear your breath.

You lit a joint and I asked and you said no, it was not good for me.

We were silent for a while and just listened to the waves

You told me things you never said before.

About surfing and how it made you feel like you were alive when really you were dead-en-side

About the time Lisa Jones’ window was open and you snuck-in to fuck her and her Step-dad walked in.

I chewed on the straw-

My soda all gone

You stopped talking and pointed to spots where the sun left me pale; rubbed a finger slowly along my shoulders and then to the darkened skin across my belly.

And then you put your mouth full onto mine and I felt your lips and your tongue.

I stopped breathing.

I gasped a little

Shivered and Shook.

Our first and only kiss

Tasted like cotton candy


Then you took to the blue water

You looked like the fastest white leopard

Kicking up sand while you ran


Looking back, you waved at your girl

I had only a second to look

Before the waters swallowed you whole


You never did wait for me.


You always said

You were not meant for the world

That death just be another phase


I still cry too easily

I still look at that shore


When I drive by now

In my mind

I see us as young

You: sad and world weary

Me: caught-up and naive

And Yet:

Somehow I always knew you would go.




The Fever.

Can you remember this?

The last time you fell ill?

To battle fevers and body pain and sore limbs

Why would YOU choose that?

To be





Sitting alone and bored in some random clinic

Clock watching, texts to no one home….

No one cares…..

To really feel alone

Waiting for the hope anti-bodies/biotics could bring?

Fat eyed-secretaries and heavy-shoed nurses

Could care less about you….

Chose ME instead

To be tender with you,

Holding your hand


Cute Stories and Dirty Jokes

Whispered into your aching ears

We would laugh

At your VIRUS

Or I would keep you at Home

In bed with me

Softly cover you with kisses

And rub the ache right out of your body

So you can forget

What it feels like

To Be Alone

And Sick

Easier & Better For You

I would learn how to hide from you.

We ran through all the rooms

Where Nothing Ever Happens

Until You Found Me

Crouching and Spying

On You

Your firm hands

Jerking back and forth

There are photos of me…


And Bent Over

And Open Mouthed

Staring out my bed-room curtain

I was startled


Could not believe my eyes

So Big

So Hard

Pumping Away at the Sight of Me?

You hear my knees punch the floor

Looking Over Your Shoulder…

Turning to find Me…

With big eyes lowered

And a secret smile on my face…..

But Mehdi, I love you.


When the moon hangs

Big and thick as milk in the sky

It is that special sweet time for me

And I am fertile for you


It’s so overwhelming and primal

Your need to fill my womb with your seed

Everything drops away

As my thighs spread open before you

My arms grasp the back of your head

And I remind you of your promise

To pump brown babies into me.

You only concern, singular focus

Your reason for being

Is to make mad, feverish love to me

Ejaculating deep, so deep inside of me

It feels like floating to heaven

As you make me conceive



Even pleasure becomes secondary,

And in those moments, nothing really matters

But taking in my moaning sounds

Delivering pump after pump of your seed

As you work to fill me


And get me pregnant

After the rush of cumming over and over

Into me

You are exhausted, spent.

But It’s also like you have completed the very thing you were meant to do.