I WANNA BE UR MAYAKOVSKY

If I don’t see you tonight I might die

on Old Street, on New Change

at the old dyke bar in Centrepoint

or knee-deep in the marshes

shivering in the lidos the ponds

high on the heath or banging my head

off the brutal concrete at Southbank.

I wanna be your Mayakovsky

Bolshevik beatbox coming  

drumming at your chest your

dick made of stars pulls me in a

strapon galaxy we rotate around

on the DL on the underground

at the stadia the palaces we see

across a city filled with tourists

whose cash lights up the night

in which we dream with the window

wide & flies in to suckle

at our blood sweet & salt from

the ferric cup from which

we sip & come day we sit

to scratch & seep from each bite

& like an open window

I’ve kept myself ajar tonight

& like a wound that keeps refilling

I got buckets of love for you so come over.