Leather Stud Princess

Leather Stud Princess


Hun,
walking the streets
you're wearing him on your eyes.
Tearing names down
as you pound pavement
your fisted wrists upturned.


Not even the leather hide on your back
is gonna keep your skin strong.
No piercing is gonna produce a pain so long
to numb the thudding beat of your song.
And no image stained on skin
is gonna grant eternity.
So you're gonna get your food
and lounge in the booth in the back that's free.


Watch out baby,
you know it's a public place.
Wearing a man so clearly on your face.
You're scaring strangers
willing to take you home
scaring yourself
on a lack of control.


Hun,
pick at your food
pass out this time.
They'll call the cops
and string you up
just for the night.


"Wake up baby boy,"
Frank whispers in your ear
funny thing
it's the one thing you've longed to hear.
Scruffy arm around you
and hot breath on neck
maybe he'll marry you
as his ring finger you check.


Darling
walk home,
after the police let you free.
Clean up your face
hang up your leathers
and baby just breathe.


Hun,
take your shower
wash the dye from your face.
Hang up the jacket
he stole for you
just for one night.


-Matthew Koutzun

Burnouts

Burnouts


I pull my fingers to my mouth
trying to suck the pain from the burn
applied by the stove.


Pulling it out
looking paste the saliva shine
at the milky red spot.


I taste it again.
Usually I would taste salt
but now it's just chicken limp in the pan.


I drifted into the thought again
of the sliding wheel.


I'm gonna season this more,
cause I'm tired of not tasting anything
and the dry taste of nothing in my mouth.


I forgot to set the salad in the fridge
and the greens are soggy
and the peeled apples a tinge of brown.


The timer is failing
braking to long past it's stop.


I'm on the phone with mom again
and breasts are burning on the stove again
cause I just can't bring myself to stop.


I'm banging my head on the wall
waiting for a firm seat rest to bang back.


And it's a burned dinner for one again tonight.


-Matthew Koutzun

Formations

Formations


Clay at feet
take my formations.
Set in moist stone
a path I've trod.
Let it take a sign
one that marks my name.


Sun dry and set
make it last.
Toss rain aside
and make a desert.
Crack and hold
formations firm.


Nothing may grow here.
Just the way I like it.
It is mine.


What fear is this
forgotten?
I run the path
running.
But perhaps you've
caught up.


-Matthew Koutzun