we’ll be electric tonight
hand in hand with the power lines / ecstatic pain, pleasing the parts of
you that crave the sting / the bite & slap , the foot on your throat,
mouth to the dirt, smiling into an oily pavement.
you’ll ask me for degradation. you’ll ask me to take what you are – remake it ; and have my name
be the last thing you whisper to your pillow as it hits / the petit mort, the vibrant end /
say my name . say my name, lover,
and make it holy.
– worship | t.b ; @raggedhearts
a little context – one, i’m so sorry for disappearing. i’m sorry i keep disappearing and re-appearing and not posting here, but there’s been a lot on my plate. things are mostly stable at home, i’m handling school well, i got into the summer school programme i wanted (sutton trust summer school !!! at st. andrews !!!! me !!!!! i got in!!!)
but it’s ridiculously difficult, sometimes, to manage all of that …plus cross-posting to two different social media outlets, keeping at least six total accounts active all on my own; not adding in having a social life at all, trying to sleep, eat, pee and exist. it’s a ton, and i’m trying so, so hard.
but also – this poem is very different from anything i’ve written, because it’s about sex, and i’ve never written poetry about that before. it’s an interesting topic; how the poet chooses to describe it, what details (physical, or emotional, perhaps both) can provide a direct insight into their sexual tastes, their attitudes towards the act of it. sexuality and sex itself are, for many people, an important part of themselves. it’s a way to express love, affection; to self-harm, to cope; an addiction, or, for asexual individuals, something subject to change, not a thought for them at all, etc. sex is a big, complicated, fascinating topic, and this is just one of many pieces to come relating to it.