flesh. denied.

So what if I admire the way my muscles jumble

in the constriction of a tight wife beater

a loose life losing youth

that pang of sadness squirms under my skin

tragedy

my body going to waste

a tired corpse

So what if I won’t look this good forever, I say

            am I really losing 1% of my testosterone per year?

            how long do I got

            till this cock runs dry

            and I have to make them love me for my smile

 crooked

misshaped desire

but I am the fire in my loins

the sweaty tiger clawing at freedom

and when that heat in my pants dies

the nights will chill

So what if you think it’s homoerotic

            that I find myself beautiful

            this is all still so very new to me

            but who gives a gift

            that they wouldn’t want for themselves

standing

tensing thighs into rolling foothills

inspecting myself in steamed mirrors

trying to see the gift I can be

from inside this condemned mind

So what if this is what I am

            this decaying passion vessel

            bad teeth and a large intestine

            twisting around the demons in my womb

where home becomes a temple

and the temple has a rhythm

music

my body beats

bloody fists into the bedposts

worshiping the last gasp

of your salty spew

So what if suffocation is when air tastes the finest

            a sack of organs

            out of tune

            and out of a gig

limber

            gathering dust and collecting bedsores

            while humming the tempos

            of bodies being more than flesh traps

            nipples and eyelashes

            napes and arches

            pent up boiling blistery

So what if I am a temple

            come celebrate with me

            under the “oh yes” fireworks

            near those draping banners whispering

            and the confetti spilt on back porches

stiff

            we could bring down heaven

            one cloud at a time

            one piece of clothing at a time

So what if I don’t want to be any closer to God

            there is plenty of time for that

            after death swallows me and asks for more

fucking

            isn’t about getting off

or getting out

            or getting in

            it’s never been about the orgasm

            it’s about the organism

So what if I am only a dirty temple

            having its final festival of living

            I will deny it no longer

flesh