Let’s Pretend

Do you know what they are thinking? Poetry.

This air, these lines, the very words I read,
I hear, are thick with suggestion; slurried
and desperate for sex and connection
spilled syllables build then break, suffocate.
This mirk reveals phallic banalities:
what is new in muddied imageries?

What do you want from me except yourself?
My words, my mind is far sicker than yours,
my pretense and phrasing better than whores -
I can…