Thinking of Sex during Prayer
let us gather in prayer:
dear heavenly body
Marisa
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
lavendar.
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
pansy.
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
celosia.
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
snapdragon.
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
sunflower.
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
STAND TWO FEET AWAY
from and it hangs
sitting with nancy
makes me wish for more sand
Succulent.
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.
this is really powerful work. absolutely moving.