Ah, spread it far and wide —
scripts, thoughts, and the legs at this dock.
Another leak, another cheap catharsis —
Plick, plick,
I undress my stanzas.

You want a little romance?
Here: my metaphors moan,
breasts of adjective heaving,
tight enjambment you can unzip.

Oh, you like it raw?
Unfiltered hearts of meat,
pained vowels grasping for sense,
all for free — come,
lick the vowels off my lips.

Gulp me down like cheap
wine at a lonely reading
Drinking words up with your eyes —
greedy little sips
never have enough of this.

Splayed lines on the screen,
the cursor pulses like a needy lover,
waiting for your touch, your careless swipe.
And there it is — the em dash —
that long, sexy, rule-breaker —
Stroking your newfound ego.
No typewriter morality can bind me now,
no grammar saint can scold my flexible, thrusting punctuation.

But you know:
You’ll forget this tomorrow.
You’ve swiped through yesterday.
Today, darling,
I'll feign like it’s the only thing that matters.

Whisper to me in bookmarks,
ghost me in silence,
pound me with likes I’ll never truly feel —
twitching wet confessions spilt,
oh, the sweet mechanical friction of validation.

Make it so
inciting for one's belief
a quivering compass as if
you could make it all right.
Veil all lusts so within stance.
Your heart's unrelenting lance.

Your cheapest motel to meaning —
I hush. Ready, now? We're finally finishing.
I’m already thinking about my next confession,
my next effulgently disposable climax.