Utro - Sexual Contradiction

The story behind it all.


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8:02:31 (& counting) PM




utro: of wings and grace this is heaven (sexual contradiction)


July 20th 2045

Alison & despair clashed their wings together as the gods predicted, hers 11 inches & his 32 inches touching the ground with his golden honest & her silver lies. Her fingers dull but nevertheless frail, frailty, & infirmity as you wish to call it. You are – (yes you) – my beautiful angel-remind me to shift, you are born again, my love.
Enigma, enigma
Full of contradictions

Instead you make two & two equal to four but when I am inside you it becomes a six maybe a five.

I woke up (once) again, & I slept
& it was you, the morning
playing games against my face.
I hated interruptions, the interruptions
That caused these types of doubt.
Your blood type gladly running marathons
Through my vessels

Her laugh filtered all the negative & positive integers on to my plate, I cry & I still cry. My love-- my Russian morning. the seasons change just filter me out, just filter me out. It is nothing more than a thousand times the earth’s diameter. So just forgive, oh please forgive me. You make me sit here & watch you exit this immortal foundation that you once condemned me to only because I loved you. I loved you, isn’t that funny. I think I loved you more when I was drunk & we were under the covers – I laid there listening to the poetry that you wrote for him. I listened & listened..

but the contradiction is the story.
And the story is the contradiction.

Go on top of me & don’t say a word, I will let your molecules do the talking. His voice in the background – with every three beats your hands pending together - I want to eat you alive. Turn the C to a C-sharp & I am creeping. Soft voices enter my ears as my insanity weakens at the tones of the signals. I want to be a contradiction, I want to be a story, give me a label – just give me a label. I want to be like you, I want to be normal & contradict myself. So just move along with me, just be by my side, make me a love story | the decimal of satisfaction will keep me alive.


Your not letting go, you have to stop this-this insanity-this Russian morning-this light-this gain, the weight of your consciences on my muscles, my spirals, my Christ, my romance, the genius in me has yet to come. You stand here & I’ll stand over there-I now declare this is the finale. Run your beautiful fingers through your hair (take your measurements, just take them, & remember to twist the stars, clarify the moon, update the universe, and love me forever.)