Where is the sun?

Monday morning the earth revolves more slowly then on any other.
Monday morning the world is a ferris wheel in orbit;
Machinery sticks,
Skinny legs hang in cages suspended,
mid air,
mid spin,
As time sets spinning backwards on a broken axis. Clogged spokes.
Fairy lights glimmer on midways,
Are mistaken for stars.
And the same stars now hang in my window that hung there an hour ago.

Coffee then?
Coffee to will back the sun?
Thick black aroma,
A morning smell to seduce the sun.
First the beans must be crushed.
Singularly,
To suck the dark sweet syrup from each and every bean. Crushing out the coffee smell,
Crushing out the heat of the sun from each and every bean,
And lighting the sky,
Luring the sun to my sky with morning smells.

Still there is no sun

Stars shine with a sickly light,
Shards of sick left unwiped,
Clouding the sky,
All orbs and sick filling the sky.
Feasts on which we have already feasted.

I wait for the sun

Somewhere inside of this bean is the sun,
The glow of light
Buried,
Trapped in the dark charm of skin.
Somewhere inside of this bean dawn waits.
Somewhere in the brewing of this bean,
The peeling of layers,
Somewhere inside is morning sun.
A sun that burns desolation at my skin,
Through bean skin.
A sun that burns my skin to desert,
Dry oceans on the other side of this bean leather.

The sun is coming in at me,
Sucking the moisture from my skin,
Searing my face,
Burning my flesh,
Tasting my flesh.
The sun,
With its mouth full of me,
Burning happy-vegemite holes in my cheek.
Burning technicolour happiness.
Searing holes in my cheek.
Holes so big I can poke my tongue through.
Poke my finger.
I can poke my finger through the hole the sun has burned through me.
I can poke my fist through,
Poke the fucking sun through the hole in my cheek.

The hole in my cheek is so wide I can spit all of these beans out from it.
A fountain of beans through the hole in my cheek.
Dark maggots,
Jettisoned from my rotting flesh.
Shot out of my cheek,
Black maggot bullets,
But wounding no one.
Disarming no one.
Burning no one.
A fountain of beans to call back the sun,
through my cheek.

The whole in my cheek is so wide he can fit his tongue inside of it.
I can feel him coming in at me from out side of my skin.
His skin is sweeter than the syrup of these beans.
His tongue laps at my skin,
And I burn in the smell of him.
He is all scent and leather skin.

Salt damp sweat I create on his skin with his tongue in my cheek.
I feast on his skin until I am sick with him.
His skin curling between my fingers,
And coming in at my skin.
Curves and hollows,
And his body glistens in my salt damp sweat.
He sighs my name and with my eyes I follow it.
There in his neck,
I can see my name,
half sigh,
half swallow.
Inside of his throat,
My name finds its way to his chest.
And I am in his breathing.
He is breathing me in.
And I am moulding my skin to his,
In salt damp,
Sticking sweat.

[don't think of his skin,
 don't think of his moans,
 don't think of how you made him moan.
his crushing breath,
hard in his throat.
 don't think of how you choked his breath with kisses at
 his throat
 don't think of his mouth at your throat
at your elbows,
behind your knees
 don't think of his tongue in your cheek
 don't think of his burning tongue.]

And like a two year old I am not happy to share the sun

Hairy backs of strangers sweat under my sun.
Under my sun,
Sweat trickles down suited backs
And collects,
Little pools of salt damp in human crevices.
My sun creates,
Damp hairs,
And blistered skins.
Old men
And older women,
Bent shoulders,
Heave their final breaths,
And pour from out their pores,
Gallons of moisture
Under the glazing glare of my sun.
Burning cancers fester under my sun,
And straining hands shelter eyes from my sun.
While time is told by the burning of my sun.
And I am without time to tell,
Without my sun.

The sun to fill my cheek with its burning breath,
To warm my breath inside my mouth.

In my mouth the sun is on fire.
It burns my tongue in my throat.
It burns and his name burns with it.
Even as it struggles to break my mouth,
His name burns through my throat.

Beneath this bean leather skin
There is no light.
Inside of this bean charm skin,
There is only
His breath,
His tongue in my cheek,
His moans in his throat,
His come,
His blood.

Inside of this dark charm chasm it is still night.