vivisection vivian

VIVIAN

I’m a coffee shop narcissist, all this wasted on the atmosphere

So I take another sip, and I’m there in the cup, face in the surface tension

Eye’s nostrils forehead ceiling, I drink again to the incestuous feeling…

The conversations no one hears me, lusting for my sister self

Kiss the brim, suck my lip…hey love you’re so well equipped

To fuck yourself into oblivion

Pound of flesh in jars, my twin antiseptic for the soul dissection

Washing my hands in the sink, she smiles from the mirror

Saying yes, she’s ready for the procedure, and talks me through the vivisection

Stretched out on the tabletop and fluid on the paper,

An elastic umbilical, and static in her hair, her wild eyes open,

She names herself Vivian

Now my hips feel funny, my nipples stick out, and when I

Breathe in I can smell her on me

She swears like a savage, fights for control, and I stare at

My skin with new curiosity

I call her lovely, and she calls me beautiful, watching the world

We walk us around

Down on each other, and fitting like frogs, we laugh at our

Clothes adorning the room

Legs ever open for her soft advance, we breathe saying

Nothing: that’s the whole point

Our hearts safe in seclusion

Alone every night, all this space to ourselves, me in a dress

And Vivian inside

In our lovers arms, aroused and relaxed, I surrender all

Sense, and switch off my mind

I’m watching it happen with a third set of eyes, she wants me,

She wants me inside

Vivian kisses with and through me, a love attack in tandem

We duel with emotions, turning summersaults of fancy

And drink to enhance the illusion

She’s drawing it on orange paper: Love is weird and scary

There aren’t enough words, she draws a burning dictionary

She doesn’t want to loose us and she doesn’t want to need us

She says sorry so fast, after crying fit to bled us

It’s not nice to ask the question of what’s left after we put

Our clothes on

Smiling at me with wet red eyes

What am I supposed to think when she says what I said made

Her feel like a slut?

When she’s scared its all over cause who would want a

Fuck-up like me?

And I feel it in my throat that I’ve just been a tremendous klutz

With her heart

And it makes my head hurt because I know how she feels

With the little bits of ourselves awkwardly exposed to

Somehow be dealt withdrawal

Scared of what it all implies.

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