Lucid Dreams of Being Clean

by Tyler Morse

may-be 
tonite’ll be the nite I rinse 
the dick that’s remained holed
up in a ziploc at the foot 
of another week may-be sada
abe Pisces moon someone at work says
feedback sandwich and I almost
throw up a leaf or My hands my 
god today god-heavy today a blown
speaker in the hours’ murky silence
casting fantasy feedback to a wishful 
bottom-feeder ie me, a perked-ear
asseater praying in the supplies closet
please, a way out of to-
day or may-be begging 
a morrow that’ll be that leach 
that sucked n left 
Like damn I thought there was at least
one thing in the world that stayed, reliable
in its taking 
but learned a leaving lesson when it blooded
inner upper thigh & dipped back 
into the lakelife of its leach-beneath unseen
Left a burn mark and a lil leak
Woke up tapt like a sap tree
She says ‘may-be 
your heart has to go unsupervised for a little while’
as together heart & I peel the sticky
pelt of denial from our daily — wavin bye 
to what binds us on those timefree
blood-drunk manic eves— 
as it wades on its own deeper
into grief sea
Woke
on a eve of a new coors lite
to ’ttach leaches all over this filmy teal-
green cock and suck two-weeks-ago’s 
party out its sleepy ridges
place those filled-to-the-scolex slug bods 
over my middle slit
Over my two day-oiled lids
Over my easy demeanor
Over a pisces moon
And put it all back
in like may-be like mem-ry like
the lake could be-my may-
be body
into which this wriggling sliver 
of need carved 
into routine takes from me to return
to me to recede

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