Sex, Kink, and the Erotic: A Poem by Séamus Isaac Fey

2:43 am

a girl slides into my dms offering sweet gifs
or the blood of my enemies. I wake from another
dream of you. My letters and journal have been trifled
through & somehow I knew it was by your hand.
I call a useless detective to find evidence of you.
You show up & the detective is confused. It took
place in the loft of my new house, but not exactly
it, & for this I thank my subconscious. The useless
man is still searching & you wrap arms around me. 
For one second my ribs unfurl, their wings buzz. 
I break you off & tell you I’m rid of you & you
say you’ll never be done with me.

at 2:45 I consider the blood of my enemies.

I am a child getting sick
each day again. when I mouth
you the air becomes poison
won’t speak you or write you
by hand, but I type you when I must
a Great Nuclear Evil. I’m speaking
of the triangular bayonet, a weapon
designed to leave a hole in the shape
of a triangle; a wound the body doesn’t
know how to heal.

About Séamus Isaac Fey

Séamus Isaac Fey (he/they) grew up in the Chicago area and resides in Los Angeles. He is the author of decompose (Not a Cult, 2024). Currently, they are the founder of the Luminaries Poetry workshop, and poetry editor at Hooligan Magazine. They love to beat their friends at Mario Party. He tweets @sfeycreates.