mista misty masochist

18 Sep


mista misty masochist


this summer

has turned me brown and delightful

like processed Afghani heroin

a tasty treat for missing teeth

for parched lips and dirty minds

another guilty plea

bartered for an attenuated prison term

forgetting the utility of futile innocence

and this drumming of the denotative gavel

composed the lamenting sound

that became the beating of my mind

and then the daylight saw me


and it matured into an anxious latitude

where we find only spiritual contravention

soft-pedaling at $10 an hour

and a shower to wash the night away

alongside my morning oatmeal –

a golden mix of amphetamine and jam-colored depravity

and other hurried thoughts –

and then she walks into my apartment

like a Chinese take out menu

because I forgot that I gave her the keys to all my doors

and she takes off her shoes slowly

a scream inside a claret cotton dress

that’s girlishly wondering how this life moves inside

so casually, as a requital for years of disservice

and we talk of the weather

of how hot it’s been

and suddenly even this persiflage surrenders

and we ripen into a single caged entity

in the clouded whisper of maladroit heat

and we attempt to soundlessly cool ourselves off

by way of each others integument

newly transparent

though still perspiring

yearning to underline

that we rarely have much to say


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Jack Tsoy Tumult

Morose Pontifications and Other Poetic Ramblings

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