verge

frantic exploration of this slim, skin island,
with hands that want to be hard and soft,
rough and smooth, stroking and clawing,
like a perfect paradox that doesnt confuse.
deltas, ridges, planes, verges,
inclines, corners, coasts, clefts,
pinching peaks and just scratching the surface.
surfing fur and folds to the edges of skin.
to the ends of the world,
where you fall off, or fall in.

it still makes my eyes swell
when i see my sexual digit disappear inside a girl.
remembering the glee of my virginity slipping out of sight,
and that this was as close as i was ever going to get
to being back in the womb.

...now i'm digging myself a hole.
...and later, when everything is old and broken,

they'll dig up the earth
and put me back in a hole.