Marisa Vito

Thinking of Sex during Prayer

let us gather in prayer:

dear heavenly body

make her whole again
remember the time when

strip away the skin she uses as love, this lemon flesh
______ made you bleed during sex

brush the tears away from her sun stained face
how the crimson felt running down your legs

count her freckles, but tell her that she does not need to sell them
the taste of it as she placed her fingers in your mouth

let this girl breathe again
to breathe it in

bandage each hole with serotonin-norepinephrine
you were embarrassed because it wouldn’t stop

push out the weeds from grass stained lungs
all the bleeding, how it was your body

teach her to think louder than teslas make her roll
and it wasn’t sexy anymore, it was just liquid

listen to her dream beyond kaleidoscope trips
staining the burgundy lingerie she picked out for you

have her stand sober-eyed before the rivers
time felt more vulnerable in the bathroom

wash her in 20 years of peace time
as you contemplated

this is not an era of good feelings
the blood, the body, the pain

it is reawakening, it is homecoming
10 minutes of praying for resurrection

show her how the swan wings can melt into ponds
for a pussy that was not yours

how palms feel when placed on her consensually
you bunched up the toilet paper

how mouths taste when they are less bitter than oceans
placed it between skin and material

how words sound when they are rose-dipped and real
walked out into the world

how life is more than oranges with no juice
told her that it wasn’t stopping

inspire her to carve a new body
you asked if you should go to the doctor

out of the grapefruit trees
she laughed, lead you outside

her mother always wanted
inhaled all her green leaves, better

feather her into the narrative she wants to write
we kissed, she softened her hand between your thighs

she embraces the lips of the mango groves
caressed you back into bedroom sheets

no longer asks for fruit, but is given it
pushed a lavender towel underneath you

mulling over the pomegranate seeds
let the wine pool onto something safe

she dances without fear of suicide
how it felt to be swallowed slowly

for she is here among us
thy blood has always been her kink

A Poem for a Lover (But I’m also on Acid and I Can’t Feel Things Like God)


everything. blueberries.

the heaven and the earth

everything you

told me your favorite color is blue

the way that skies open to pink dawns

the way that skies open to pink dawns

the way my chest feels barreled with blue


i think of you

how you look naked, your bluebell breasts

blooming against my larimar palms

cause my veins don’t work, but the acid does

let there be light


you are real, real like blueberries

the juice that bursts down, pours down

your lips, i lick it off

tasting you the way you deserve to be tasted

how it felt to call the Light Day and the darkness Night


my lips are red, but your fingers are blue

you push the iron into cold water

tell me to open my mouth

let them be for signs, and for seasons, and for days, and years

let us swim in throat chakras

let us multiply in the mandalas


my skin is shedding, melting off like indigo fumes

let the waters bring forth abundantly the moving creatures that hath life

so i curl around you, the way blue does around oceans

your fingers laced around my neck


sun’s going down honey

be fruitful and multiply

wrap you up in velvet blankets,

feel what’s between

let the earth bring forth

me and you


i bleed onto your fingers, its dark purple

not red like the cartoons always said

ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it

faucets break and im all over you

similar to tourists pushing ocean pictures

Oh! How blue!


my skin has tiny freckles, freckles like blueberries

all of them are for you and have always been

dipped in denim my legs spread for you

where art thou? daddy

pictured your smile like it was yesterday

but today, i am today

only different, only in kaleidescope


too Pacific more longing to drink you down fully

absorb the vodka, this skyy

patterned with blue texts, blue sexts

i have given you every herb bearing seed

you touch me

and it’s skies open to pink dawns

your hands creviced in between this blizzard of legs

that seem more like every tree

to you it shall be for meat


my third eye looks through cerulean glasses

towards you as you stand naked

so i wrap you up

kiss you, watch blue become two amber eyes

what do you see when you look at me?

something green, something money

of every tree in the garden thou mayest eat freely

something blue, call me honey

something like skies that open to pink dawns


everything is everything

even after 12 hours



In the Garden

perfume behind my ears
felt the bees hum to the sounds of
the hurried unbuttoning of jeans,
getting raped for the first time
how it felt like love
not something scary made of clay
the hands i knew, i watched for 7 years
touched me for the first time
making each light go violet, then violent
and i tell her to stop
but things can’t be real when they’re not heard
so i let the water roll in, pretty fucking
same color different years
i don’t know what i am anymore
when its just about sex, do i like that?
yes, you have to
so i get high
and get fucked
my partners feed me cut up grapes
cut up plums
each fruit placed into my mouth
because i can’t walk
watch the bright red start to wilt
when all the sex tapes turned sour
but not deleted
she tells me that she watches them
and i do too, but i don’t really
her nostrils flare when i call her daddy
in the car
she packs the bowl, places in the fire
the cherry it creates held up to my mouth
i am myself, only distorted and faded
eating her at every stop light
makes me hot, makes me nervous
can’t take what’s been given
how much more strawberries must i pawn away
erase the times my eyes were glued together
pondering over how i feel while the thumbs widdled away
tore at my flesh and called it theirs
im tired of writing about these things that make my face numb
but they keep happening
so i string each cotton candy sky together
hoping that these will become stories
that seem more pink than panther
that are less flesh less mind
sitting down with my therapist, with nancy
i am what i deserve
do i deserve this
nancy tells me no
that there are more lemon drops
if i just leave
she doesn’t know how great the sex is
i tell her this
silence tastes the way van gogh flowers do
placed against walls that I must
from and it hangs
sitting with nancy
makes me wish for more sand
surface levels that can grow without water
i cut off the trimmings and sell them for $1
hand me a crisp washington
i bathe in the green of thine enemies
let it tamper with me
so i smoke at 5:51
pile up all the daydreams and caterpillars
watch all the rabbits munch on every leaf of lettuce
to hold every ounce of watermelon again
filled with all its seeds
craddle it and tell myself
it is green and it is you

Marisa Viton is from Orange County. They work as a Social Justice Peer Educator for the Center for Student Involvement at University of California, San Diego. They create workshops and teach different organizations on campus about multiple issues occurring in society. As an English Literature/Writing student, Marisa has worked with different styles of creative literature such as fiction, nonfiction, and poetry.


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