devour all things move toward their end the_flesh 060518 ... raze the last person i kissed tried to suck the skin off my face starting with the lips. it wasn't a meeting of mouths. it was a way of wounding or trying to wound. it was a way of talking, too, but all our kisses stitched together made one unbroken breathless sentence i couldn't keep up with, that left me no room to respond. if i ever get another chance to taste someone's words where they live, i want to take my time, and i want to write a few poems of my own. 220312 what's it to you? who go blather from