Joyce Lee noticed that I hide my face when people talk about sex so she gave me Vulgar as a prompt.

TW: It is fucking vulgar.
Seriously if you’re related to me here is your invitation to not continue


I cringe to admit it but

I think my Ancestors got off on this white boy having his tongue so far up my ass he knew what I had for dinner

I know they screamed with delight when one of his testicles bruised and blue popped out the small circle of my closed fist

They danced when I made him choke all over a big beautiful realistically veined cock

They released through streams of urine poured over his face

Similarly they sigh
When I wrap my fingers around their throat and suck the air from their lungs into my own
Hold their body down under the weight of mine so they could know what it is like to be powerless

fucked up without being fucked over

My Ancestors love drinking ecstasy directly from their wet and squirting, plumped up flesh

My Ancestors feel it when they come as I make them come
soaking through towels and topsheets
we swim oceans on that mattress
Eyes rolled back
Teeth clentched
Nipples hard

My hands full of their hair as my ears fill with their screams and my low laughter

I leave bite marks on their flesh that leaves scars for a week

They are so proud of them

Proof of their ability to surrender despite living in a world that marks any softness with a death threat

Proof of their ability to surrender to pleasure in states of chosen pain

Proof that they can surrender in ways only Black people can surrender to each other

We feed our Ancestors off the plate of our own bodies and They eat well

These thighs serve up a feast of thick yams,
open mouths drip wine,
tongues lick full lips and bring out deep songs to counter and disrupt a groove of fuckery on repeat

We beat newness into our own Black flesh

Virtuous through these vulgarities

We reclaim the soil of ourselves
Water it with squirt and sweat and swears
We pray and pay homage to a round goddex
Sweet fleshed, sex flushed, sorid and fecund within ourselves

I am a phoenix in their fire wet and griping flesh
Fingerwriting scriptures and sonnets inside of them

Come again
Come again


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