poem(s): split

boy in his head
she is a woman I knew,
when I was younger. she
starts and stops—
like porn dissolving,
reloading
into a face like Iceland, two
eyes, two fishes
swimming
into my mouth—
reloading
their shaking pupils.
when you tip
your neck,
I
would like to bite
the wet skin.

– – –

girl in the shower
she has water hitting her
neck in reeds and she watches
the small rounds
run like loosed hounds
down the larger parts, she
complies herself
to crumble but only when
locked away—listening
to the sound of her soul
hitting the toilet floor.
when she talks there is
semen in her mouth, they say: sanity
is for the weak.

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