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About Deviant Member Devin22/Male/United States Group :iconstarving-artists-ftw: starving-artists-ftw
Snacktime. All the time.
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Leagues separate us
in all manners
but anatomy.

Your Punnett Square is full,
and the only time we spend
together in this hologram’s
Venn Diagram is
when comparing

shed Y from my alphabet
and shift four spaces left.
Eclipse my solar plexus–
moonstruck by libidinous

{Fed-Ex my ex
my sex because
          double x
marks the spot
in which I want
to bury my
treasure chest}

I hire Osiris the Eunuch
as my captain & Lorena
Bobbitt as my pancreas’
surgeon.  I’d hire you as
my biologist if you were
not already too occupied
with dipoles.

My unresolved resolution:
to sail with normal you on
your exclusive yacht, yet I
fit not into your dock.

I snap our magnet in half
& toss it into the Atlantic
with the ashes of another
reverie unwritten.
Member Ship
putting the S.S. in ass
smooth sailing
Mature Content Filter is On
(Contains: sexual themes)

Fuck me where no mountain climber’s
flag has ever marked before.  Let us
pirate Mt. Foreverest’s virginity
like a discovered continent.  I
am a foreigner to explore.
Translate my tongue
till my taste buds
become fluent
in the treble
clefs of
your s
kin c


Goosebumps scale
my thigh as I scale
your lower Tower
of Babel.


Felch mon coeur
through a bendy
straw.  Slurping
in the language
of saliva &


Pucker conjugations with
your onomatopoeia lips &
French me.
Insert sound effect sample:
nos lèvres mwahing like a
French me.
Swivel them barstool hips
for me & I may swing
open my saloon doors
for you.
L'Escalade des Hanches
mon coeur = heart
nos lèvres = our lips
l'escalade = climbing
hanches = hips
sacral chakras
align by a belt
camera lovers
drink each

pierced lip
         the tip
he swallows
the iceberg–
Throat meets
Orgasm melt
into a Titanic

conjoint tonsils
sculpted torsos
& heart-scripts
toss aside their
Wallet Castles;
the unsheathed
sword yanked–
a king declared
as his celluloid
consort du jour
wipes his blade
Enter patisserie:
A line of nobodies leads
me to my cashier’s right

                    One cookie please.
                    That’ll be 69 cents.

I fumble for my
wallet, coins jangling
to the tune of Sin
atra love songs &
the cashier winks
at Nobody.

                    A kaleidoscope of maggots slip
                    n slide down my glissando guts

A torrent of  c r u m b s
hails in my oesophagus.
The cashier autographs his number
on the receipt.   My cell phone gets
a boner.

           I staple Crayola cocoons
           to my forehead & crunch
           my saccharine treat.

Several nibbles later I
return to the queue of
idiots that aren’t us &
two whomevers gossip
about Nothing in front
of me & as the cashier
says next, this weather
makes my feet cold.

         Pineal butterflies flap their wings
             Hurricane Devin demolishes
                 skyscrapers & anthills &
                      pastry shops

I puke.
Salmonella Heartbeat
good news for anybody (all three of you) who cares about me: i have about five poems to publish ! i will spread them out over the next few weeks.  idk.
√blossom my body withyou
(where + when + for) x (ever)
distributive pronoun property
each either neither (alas
you are not my property
but letmebeyours: cargo
delivered to your heart's address–
stamped with a swollen lip imprint)

<secret: i make wishes on
your dandelion pollenclouds>

twinevines at birth//separ ation
by rototiller killer
don’t punctuate my funeral
send my so;ul in semicolon
care packages (every day is Sun
day according to the postal code
of my chlorophyll addict abacus)
chalkboard sketches/
biological equations:
                    xy < x2
                    ½♥ ≠ ❀
                    |you to me|> me to you

my theorem proves i am nothing
{u/0 = undefined ∴ i shall never be under you}

<secret: i am allergic to my letterbox>

           cancel the factorials in my algebraic nursery. seal hydrangeas
           in an envelope marked FRAGILE; call it cliché & never call back
           because some florist named pythagoras stole your cell phone.
           i count the _ours until my notmine transforms to my yesmine
           & study the angle of your svelte hips, your parabolic dimples,
           the golden ratio of your justright  ̊ face: your sacred geometry.
           i change your definition to “the envy of euclid and goldilocks.”

<secret: if you graphed all the permutations
in my head, we'd always end up as asymptotes>



square root my negative roots=
the variable that represents you
         quit! planting erotemes in my {S?O?I?L}
as the number line retrogrades across the U-axis
we play petal roulette (f+pl)(ucked) ÷ lovesme[not]∞
the formula of our ideal:
(you;me.death... you;me...
why mailmen + mathematicians make shitty gardeners
(as according to my solar-powered calculator)

because i = √-

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Add a Comment:
musicallybrunet Featured By Owner Oct 5, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
daaaaang i love your work. all the little innuendos make me laugh, and the imagery is just. ugh. thanking my friend for mentioning you to me :)
(1 Reply)
MaydayWeCrashed Featured By Owner Aug 5, 2014
oh ma ga!
i still havent found ma berries
(1 Reply)
Beaple Featured By Owner Jun 10, 2014
Remember when the wind would lift us up, where we could see just far enough to make our mouths go dry? Trying to drink it in through our eyes, tongues glued to the roofs of our mouths, ankles breaking as we hit the ground.

My mended legs have bended strange, but it's splendid laying down.

Thanks for still being around.
(1 Reply)
megsmad Featured By Owner May 6, 2014
thanks for faving x
missed you
(1 Reply)
janardana Featured By Owner Apr 15, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Your imagery is brilliantly evocative, like verbal napalm to the eyes.  Absolutely awesome.  :)
(1 Reply)
Add a Comment: