Apartment 202 – Disastrous to Want Him

Sometimes I think about fucking my roommate,
so I brush my teeth to make up for having dirty thoughts.
Clean teeth is the path to a clean conscience
but the couple on the Close Up tube always taunts me.
Their cardboard eyes are the only things in this room
that scrutinize the unburdening and the purgation.

Get off your knees. The toilet bowl ain’t an altar.
And tell him that your bulimia has made you better at giving blow-jobs too.

Looking in the mirror I see as a voyeur does.
Both of us bent over the sink like question marks
racing toward heaven and ready to stain the world with sin.

Have your fantasy. It won’t make the cravings go away.

And sometimes, too, I wish he had cancer
instead of herpes, so I wouldn’t become infected.