by eloisehendy

perhaps i will rename my body
the radical nude

& wear indecency with distinction
& my nipples like rosettes

every morning i will pose
& recite her manifesto

she is not for fucking with
but is for fucking, on the whole

she is not an object but under certain light
a work of art

the spaces in between her are just
as important

i will draw her with wobbled edges
& she will refuse

to stay inside the lines
sometimes she will be open

& on these days she will shine
like a polished boot

an apple, or the moon
you know the score

on others she will shut herself off
& away from others

she will grow petty in her pleasures
or else insatiable

on these days her thighs will spread
to cover the earth

& her stomach will roll
as heads do

at every moment there will be a risk
of an avalanche being triggered

or instead a tsunami, in any case
a disturbance of water

if only to recall
the instability of things

& that erotic works
are also sacred

(after egon schiele)