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Teen Talk

Summer 1997


She covered up my eyes, and then in
the blindness, took a piece of my
pierced flesh and tainted,
tattooed skin.
Crying like a fire
she left an eternal
trail of tear drops running
down to my sin, in sequence,
my desire, spreading
beneath my delinquency.

She flows and bleeds like a river
before she lets me begin.
Passing "souls-of-purity" sleep,
while my soul is taken.

Demons of steel laugh like ice
and adore the manner
in which she will kill.
Angels can stare and judge me
but will never know the way I feel.

Wishing there was a way
to dominate this fucking
hopelessness, this infinite
concavity. I now understand
the depths I reach are limitless!


Lusting after a mode to transmit
the remedy
for this eclipse of my being,
my veins, my blood. ...

My light. My darkness
My disease. My comfort
My sweet infection, I am
truly impure.

Desperation versus hope for the cure.

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This article was provided by Women Alive. It is a part of the publication Women Alive Newsletter.
See Also
More HIV/AIDS-Related Poetry