Eve Rounds

sex makes me forget

that i have MS.
sex makes me forget
a lot of things. forgive a lot of things. want a lot
desire is distracting. it activates the segments of my brain only tainted by subversive thought.
my body feels functional as that desire leads to fulfillment.
a raw familiar process of give and take that operates as it should.
my mind feels functional as that desire leads to more desire. a regeneration process that doesn't require pills or follow ups.
compartmentalizing can be so fucking sexy.

but ok but

write some poems that i can give him ok (but they’ll all be about the hims) good idea bad idea no good twinning and losing

a 5 7 5 for e

peering through thick glass your back to me is waiting any news at all? running down broad steps into your brotherly arms crying without breath!


is it the ticking of the third hand or the faucet dripping onto discount bulk blueberries both measuring time “going in circles” as he would

a poem about you for you (and you)

you are your own though your temperament reminds me of him your head is more ripe mango while his was more soft plum my love

i don’t even know

how long it’s been. haven’t been counting days haven’t counted backwards on the calendar. haven’t bothered to reread my own words. haven’t been missing you

the five senses

your blue eyes and crooked lippy smile which i inherited that tiny soft bristle brush for your basically bald head the white corvette a campfire cards