Writers Jam

This is true
I am
A slutty lover boi
With the self-awareness
Of a gushing river
Surrendering
To its own flow
Whose curves put
Ghosts of past loves
To shame
My imagination runs wild
Like the Yarrow bushes
Tracing the curves of I-94
My hot wheels dance
Along them
With a thirst
For adventure & play
The likes of which
Only I know

I can be
Your self-aware, slutty lover boi
But first
I might make you
Beg for it
Bring some rope & some
Dark chocolate
Inhale the smoke & scents
If you can —
Palo Santo & Patchouli
Sweat & naked bodies —
Through my tightening grip
Around your throat
Let the exploration
Of these hands
Spilling wet ink on paper
Be a sacrament of sensuality
Anointing devotion
Into the cracks & crevices
Of your hungry skin

Am I?
Self-aware?
Slutty?
A lover boi?
Am I yours?
Sluts like me
Belong to none
But the horny
Voice, coming
From my own
Heart