X Marks L On The Forehead

The other night I opened my eyes and I was dreaming--- a bisexual wraith from the gray-in-between was standing by my door and dancing, thin and lithe.

And beside my bed was a naked woman in a white veil--- not so young, kneeling… Justine…It’s Justine…I am dreaming awake I clap and tell myself to

“Wake up.”

The clap of my hands and voice was heard and the ajar bedroom door was opened, asking the dark,

“What is it? Nightmare?”

I answered,

“I’m awake.”

And I went back to sleep.

I Tell You This Tonight My Young Lito Lapid

Hissing from love and that is falling in love with a fantasy that ass-fucks. You cut your memories from all that hair, of that X that never was is now that L on your forehead. Ah, love oh love----- how I despise it.

I say to the forehead, “L, they always say What’s the point of finding what you want and who you want when you can’t have---when you can’t have----”

L answers, “What’s the point”

I say, “That’s it: you can’t have it”

And laugh just when you think you have it.

And you don’t have it.

And---

And that is the cosmic fraud.

And heavy, this metal, it is heavy.

And like today, before tonight:

Today I Was Burning

And was read “Hot”.

And I was asked if I sang and I said no, “But I dance.”

And my lips were the Dragon’s Perfect Rose.

That Red Mouth

That red that you smear away with a thumb just before you kiss and eat it all off. Those lips that you would watch taking you in, slowly enclosing you, slowly… sliding… down….Taken as the red mouth takes you.

And I look At Young Lito Lapid

Sitting beside me, hairless, a pit bull biting a rag, this rod beating his forehead with, “L…L…L…O…S…E…RRRRRRR.” And you say,

“I’m Lito Lapid No More.”