You unzip me. Open
me like a
cadaver, right
to the marrow.
The violence of our
lust
shakes the walls.
You wrack-and-screw
bruises in
pectorals. I glow
the
colours of
rot, hands turned
up, and
empty.
I become a catacomb.
I’ve learned to covet
the
salt of pain:
It means you’re close.
I slip a vital
organ
between your
teeth.
You look divine –the
cord of my
life in one hand,
scissors in the other–
biting down,
puncturing
atriums, aorta.
Vince Ruston is a writer and Voiceworks editor originally hailing from Hobart. They are undertaking RMIT’s Bachelor of creative writing and interning for The Lifted Brow. They have been published in Voiceworks, Scum-Mag, Rabbit Poetry Journal, Catalyst and Gore Journal. You can find them on WordPress, Tumblr and Twitter.
Image by Henric Silversnö
