“you and me goin’ finish this.” he whispered.

his eyes filled with wet wanting and such

and me somewhere half devoured

on shapeless flats

wrapped in him.


and we played.

i mounting he

back arched



hard. impaled

and the rest.


and i found new gardens to rest myself in when i is weary.

when all i need is to wiggle my toes in soil

let some comfortable feeling settle in

breathe a bit more than a bit

then laugh.


and thats a more mighty thing

finding home in a new lover.

land grabs.

i knew you’d be a nasty motherfucker.

one of the ones you bed

and break up with

only to- be made to suffer through

a river of pleas and insults.

hurt feelings

and things not completely turned over being thrown

as violently as our fathers threw fists.


as fast as our mothers covered up our queerness by playing up the need for every child to self express.


as deadly as the silence we fucked in.


I knew my number should have stayed mine.

knew you’d get mad

same as i knew showing interest in your life would get me in your pants.


i knew that we both were being unfair.

Both praying on emotion for ends left unsaid.


we are two Black men.

who areĀ  predators of flesh in so many ways

and victims of a nervous condition

perpetrated on us

by a colonial power.


and when speaking, thats how it out to be told.

with truth laying on some part of it.


Illustration by Bruce Nugent

I feel you. Inside. I want you. Inside. Black and bold. I want you. Want to taste your sweat. Feel your fingers trace my spine. Feel them grasp buttocks. Tense and release. impaled while licking collar bone. Suck. And suck. And suck. Until there is nothing left. Nothing left of me. Nothing. All meshing into black night. Only the spirit can hear our moans now.