Poem | Sarah Parijs

Beat inspired artwork by Divya Adusumilli

Histories of Desire

Swirl, swirl, swirl, swirl.
Images and lines that wile away seconds.
Time seems strangely, perversely sexual,
invasive and sensational.
I can feel it ticking by,
but I equally want to invade it
and make it beg for what I offer.

Could I fuck time?
Could I make it mine or at least pretend it’s mine?
Subjective and subjugating in tautological cycles.
Slow. Fast. Sweet. Harsh.
I want to play it at my fingertips
so each second is slow and crisp.
Chronological cunt: I would taste it
as a metaphysical master,
letting it spill into my mouth.

Drink history and future
and dog-fuck it with my fingers
to drive it higher and make time beg for more
like I do – more time together.
Rimming and worshiping
at the celestial and ephemeral altar
of temporality, to feel an alien anus
quiver against my tongue.

I want ownership and inscription
to write meaning onto time
and have it write on me;
to carve myself into time
and have it carve into me so that
we’re always, already, ambiguously
fucking, fleeing, and freed.

Then again, it swirls, escapes,
makes me want it more.