by Robert Mayo
Listen to me.
Write boldly through the margins. Use two lines instead of one. Use no lines at all. Do not bind yourself with the cast iron manacles of language. Language is devil-speak. When you write, do not use ink. Let the pen drain the hot black blood of your heartbeats onto the page. Bear yourself. You have more than you reckon to bear. Write your young, stupid heart out. Tear up the page and burn it; use the light of the fire to guide you down another cave. Above all, feel no shame. Tell us how hard you love; tell us how you cut your cocaine. If you will, I will. Let us make a blood pact. We will slice our palms together.
But do not shake my hand. Please, do not touch my hand.
I do not want to read your poem. I want you to scream into my ear. I want you to pry open my jaw and pour your boiling soul down my throat. Only this will satisfy me. Only this, and nothing else. Tear your little heart to pieces. I want to pick them up and cradle them in my arms. I want to be your mother; tell me how she was and I will suckle you like she did. Please, by God, be nothing but more than honest. I long to hear the wails you stifle in the pillowcase. They are the sweet music of the new Gods. There is truth hidden in your rollerball scratchings. You are of the era of the globe. Let the world see the hot blood that flows through New York’s gutters. Let the world hear the crazy confusion of the cracked Fifth Avenue tarmac. Let us make love under the warm glow of the truth of your life.
But I will not touch you. Please, do not touch me.
Love me like you’ve loved no other, please me with the forceful thrust of your truth, and I will you, I will you. We will make memories of the old Gods. Lover, we are the new. Let us love, let us love. And when we have finished, when our hands and bodies intertwine and we lie panting in the pool of our messy, stupid lives, I will hover my lips before yours and breathe softly in your mouth, and you in mine, and we will birth a new star for the firmament. A shrieking, bloody, beautiful mass for tomorrow.
But please, please do not touch him. Do not touch him.
