"Scabbed Lips"

I pucker up your lips approach mine.

Pus the color of piss and blood ooze from your scabs.

The stink is worse than gangrene.

Our lips meet.

My mouth is filled with fluid.

My stomach twists in knots and bile crawls up my throat.

I choke it down and over time learn to love the pus and stench.

Your lips are all I think about,

I see them in my dreams.

When our lips meet.

It's better than scag, better than hooch, and better than sex.

Every time I piss or bleed I'm reminded of you.

When your pus and blood fill my mouth.

It’s sweeter than honey, sweeter than sugar, and sweeter than candy.