XV
DOOMED
after Moses Sumney
I.
God made me asexual
wanting climax
fearing closeness
Point of sex
Is pleasure?
Why not get to it
Sex is academic
Anatomy rehearsing
how to best fit
Fat renders anatomy formless
So life has been
how to clone my libido
I place myself in porn
rehearse body
give urge to a click and enhance
Like this
like that
like this I have angles and corners
and flesh someone needs and food
like this I am food
God made me inedible
so porn is blasphemy
deserving of low lights
after midnight
I tell no one
freaks burst out my back
when I can’t find light
Play
play
sex is church
I play
II.
Solid computer screen blue is the color of
God’s judgment
Black is death
A curdled stomach
And sore
Sore
Sore
I can’t face sin
tired and
without
reason or evidence
to repent
III.
Sun brings air
air brings gender
a new stream
of rejection
I think
wash or enter
dress or unfurl
speed or wait
a list bursting with thumbnails
me attempting chastity
by peeking through myself
IV.
There is an other self
living behind discipline
it’s eye is untrained
in how I sculpt
objects of desire
into archive
The other self
screams for a chance
but I gave it one once
and it ran when I got up the
nerve to present myself
Here, this is my body
Swaddled in baggy
Hoodies and parachute
Sweatpants
I won’t let anybody in
I won’t let anybody out
after Moses Sumney
I.
God made me asexual
wanting climax
fearing closeness
Point of sex
Is pleasure?
Why not get to it
Sex is academic
Anatomy rehearsing
how to best fit
Fat renders anatomy formless
So life has been
how to clone my libido
I place myself in porn
rehearse body
give urge to a click and enhance
Like this
like that
like this I have angles and corners
and flesh someone needs and food
like this I am food
God made me inedible
so porn is blasphemy
deserving of low lights
after midnight
I tell no one
freaks burst out my back
when I can’t find light
Play
play
sex is church
I play
II.
Solid computer screen blue is the color of
God’s judgment
Black is death
A curdled stomach
And sore
Sore
Sore
I can’t face sin
tired and
without
reason or evidence
to repent
III.
Sun brings air
air brings gender
a new stream
of rejection
I think
wash or enter
dress or unfurl
speed or wait
a list bursting with thumbnails
me attempting chastity
by peeking through myself
IV.
There is an other self
living behind discipline
it’s eye is untrained
in how I sculpt
objects of desire
into archive
The other self
screams for a chance
but I gave it one once
and it ran when I got up the
nerve to present myself
Here, this is my body
Swaddled in baggy
Hoodies and parachute
Sweatpants
I won’t let anybody in
I won’t let anybody out