Ode to the Leeches and the Ladybugs

There’s a flatness in unwashed sheets,

a stale smell to the air like a secret - 

no, not a secret - 

like a truth no one is allowed to speak,

it’s the pull of a hesitation like the sinew of a heart,

the skipped beat when deciding to do the wrong thing - 

taking a breath - 

and doing it anyway, 

I am lying on my sheets, crucified on pillow top - 

waiting for the bloodletting that is your mouth on my veins

drain my lifeblood, my uneven humors,

my melancholy, my melancholy, 

oh the masturbatory self-awareness of my 

hedonist ways, 

Take them, take them, 

Take me bile and all - 

The pain it is to love a leech,

just pull all of it, for one moment.

at least. 

And then let me wake gently

to the sun dripping through a canopy of leaves

like honey

with my hands covered in ladybugs

clashing like a riot against my bloodless skin.