need is almost needless,
almost hypothetical in its hungry bravado,

its optical illusionary, illustrious lust,
the falsetto's and odes to your erection

the bourgeoisie bullshit, a laugh that comes out
in snorts rather than roaring lung shattering

your teeth are made of grey matter, your mouth
a buzzing streetlight, the wide tunnel of your

throat a slice of scissors coming together in the end,
my neck exposed, ready for your angled forehead,

your cold tongue, voice bright like moonshine
in my ear,

need is far too needy for me,
too devoid of experimentation, too

emphatic that it cannot take a joke,
need can kiss my ass, kiss it like

your body slithering down mine, your
haughty hothouse hope, elbows and kneecaps

and this is not how it is in the cinema, this
is not magic flutes and forever and ever,

ever is a broken concept, a torn shirt, or a button
missing from a coat,

need is nevertheless never minding,
elemental, unapproachable, swollen

like my body when you move too harshly
inside of me,

need is naked but for the shame of it,
it is a landscape laid to waste, a whisper

all too soft in the night, negating itself,
nothing but nothing; need is too much

a pox on my bones, an anchor rusted to my
lower lip, a sharp instinct to break free.