i lie. 
can you see the lie? 
while i writhe beneath you. 
a frenzy. 
hardly a reality. 
i cannot even see your face. 
i know that it busies itself, all the while. 
with that abyss – the centrefold. 

i see just the editor’s cut. 
in out. 
intro/outro. 
i’m a porn star. 
i know not what i are. 
nor you… 

“who the fuck are you?” 
…i think to myself… 

forgive me, i know not what i do. 
weight… yours. wait! 
i know what i need. 

the road to… 
give me more head-onism! 
a straight arrow. 
weee… weee… 
round the merry-go-round. 
down the slide. 
down the line. 
hard and fast – i like it. 
like i like it. 
a champion. 

i cannot feel if i am whet. 
but your face is, i guess. 

i slide my finger into it. 
met by the insistence of your tongue. 

it warps and morphs. 
oh what fun! 
except, who the fuck are you? 

old nick? 
give me a nickel and a dime. 

i’m no prostitute. 
nick my stuff and you outta here, pal! 

but, oh, what the fuck. 
is that insistent tongue doing now? 

you are speedy – but not prompt. 
in the mist i glimpse. 
in the midst of it all a groan. 
a sea – as white as coke. 

it clicks into place. 

i’m fucked. 

this is rail shag. 

beneath the sheets. 
lies the plate. 

space-time continuum meet. 
i know who the fuck you are. 

see-sawing between my legs. 
my mirror and my muse. 

animus. 
my mind is off. 
my lips are numb. 
did you put some there? 

risks. 
risqué. 

salt in the wounds. 
you rock back and forth. 

i’m a child again. 
on the playground. 

this head makes me ache. 

your razor top, 
insistent tongue. 

china! 
plate. 

it’s really just me. 
and i have no idea 
who you are?