#wornporn

Dreams have washed away, but I stand here, not weightless, not unscarred, yet still alive— and for the first time, wholly my own.

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You Don't Know What Love Is but you know how to raise it in me like a dead girl winched up from a river. How to wash off the sludge, the stench of our past. How to start clean. This love even sits up and blinks; amazed, she takes a few shaky steps. Any day now she'll try to eat solid food. She'll want to get into a fast car, one low to the ground, and drive to some cinderblock shithole in the desert where she can drink and get sick and then dance in nothing but her underwear. You know where she's headed, you know she'll wake up with an ache she can't locate and no money and a terrible thirst. So to hell with your warm hands sliding inside my shirt and your tongue down my throat like an oxygen tube. Cover me in black plastic. Let the mourners through. Kim Addonizio

“Give me the strongest cheese, the one that stinks best;
 and I want the good wine, the swirl in crystal
surrendering the bruised scent of blackberries, 
or cherries, the rich spurt in the back 
of the throat, the holding it there before swallowing.
Give me the lover who yanks open the door 
of his house and presses me to the wall 
in the dim hallway, and keeps me there until I’m drenched
 and shaking, whose kisses arrive by the boatload 
and begin their delicious diaspora
 through the cities and small towns of my body.
 To hell with the saints, with the martyrs 
of my childhood meant to instruct me 
in the power of endurance and faith,
to hell with the next world and its pallid angels
swooning and sighing like Victorian girls. 
I want this world. I want to walk into 
the ocean and feel it trying to drag me along
 like I’m nothing but a broken bit of scratched glass,
 and I want to resist it. I want to go
staggering and flailing my way
through the bars and back rooms,
through the gleaming hotels and the weedy
 lots of abandoned sunflowers and the parks
 where dogs are let off their leashes 
in spite of the signs, where they sniff each
other and roll together in the grass, I want to 
lie down somewhere and suffer for love until 
it nearly kills me, and then I want to get up again
 and put on that little black dress and wait 
for you, yes you, to come over here
 and get down on your knees and tell me 
just how fucking good I look.” Kim Addonizio