Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god


Even stones lose their sheen.
Once the storms of yesterday pass,
They become worn and withered,
But the surface becomes smooth.

I want that
To wash over me.
I want to be able to
In it, to
Face down in it.
I want it to break
My hymen and leave
Me in a
Pool of virginal blood.

I want it to rape me,
To force itself upon me
While I scream
"Oh god, why!?"
Into the invisible air.

I want it in me,
But I want it
Away from me.
I know I don't want it,
And that makes me want it even more.

One more cyst of desire
Won't make much difference.

December 4, 2007

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