The bottle of some fancy
coke in my hand.

Half-empty.

I start licking the bottle throat
imagining it’s your cock;

I put my tongue inside it,
imagining it’s your asshole.

I’m reading Yeats at the same time,
and getting a little wet.

I’ve never wanted to touch a man
like I’ve touched you.

Ever.

It’s 00:48AM.

What would my parents say about it?

They no angels;

I saw them fuck in the bathroom.

Baby Bambi eyes
I’m a crow
Gia
Black hair
Cat
Fake hair
I’m a crow
Big Bambi eyes.

You’re dangerous.
You sell drugs.
You’d sell me.

Gosh!
I’m wet.

Take me out.
I bought this dress for you.
Tom Ford, Gucci era.
Cut me open.
Leave nothing.

Goodness,
I’m so wet.

There’s no food in this house.
Except Marlboros,
Xanax,
Whiskey,
Cola,
E-piano,
Speaker,
And a bottle of water.

Whisper my NAME,
I am a SHAMAN.
Why?
”Christiane F.” why?
Neon pink hair why.
It’s so sad to be us - she thought.
Not until you hang with us - he replied.
I went out so bad.
So late.
Orgasm late.
EXHAUST
FUMES
TICKLE
MY
NOSE.

If I could,
I’d gobble myself up.
For the weight I’m not happy with.
For not having enough money,
or success.
For doing too many drugs,
for sleeping with men I didn’t love,
for cheating,
for lying.
If I could,
I’d forgive myself.

I’m so happy right now.

Do my panties
smell sweet?

I’m so scared
of everything
going bad.

I’m so happy right now.

I’m scared to attach my poems in an email,
and I’m scared to get attached to anything.

I find Carnatic music beautiful, magical, calming. I feel like I grew up in Goa, India.
Every winter spent there since I was six did something to me.

Every day I’ve lived since the day I was born did something to me.

Every person I’ve met in my life did something to me.

Every decision I’ve made did something to me.

Every breath of mine—does something to me.

Maria Kirsch, based in Berlin.

© 2026 dream boy book club