consequences of masturbating in a haunted house

i:   sit alone and naked making dead
eye contact with   my reflection   in the mirror   opposite the bed

as my fingers shake       split self  there is:   a crack     a perfect
spiral the whole way round a bell jar on the mantelpiece

there is an  [un]  welcome visitation but by now
i: am luminous and     insatiable

despite the radiator ticking i am cold nippled     goose pimpled    i am
shell pink and sluice phlegm on a milky  and  fearless tongue

there are pearls forming at the back of my throat
a bluish contortionist , i no longer know:   where my body is

because i osmose spirit    no limit    to skin
dissipation left:   a bad taste   hiccups    broken glass on sheets

instead of sweat  and  cunt
everything smells like


libare, or, the very object of veneration

the question [is] how Lucilla expressed her veneration for the martyr’s bone—
by kissing or simply touching it[?]
                                                              Robert Wiśniewski

gold haloed :     the skull is
the moon :     reflection
only but :     better
than no light

and i lick that light from yellowing teeth
         crave the dissolve of wafer on wet tongue

and the wax of honeycomb
       the flood of honey where ascetic becomes erotic

love is eating and being eaten



Seeking Unity 115
Collage, 2020


Star, cross, square and other signs 235
Collage, 2018


4 Principal Lines of the Hand
Collage, 2020


blythe zarozinia aimson

Blythe Zarozinia Aimson is a poet from the Peak District, currently living in Norwich after graduating from UEA with an MA in Creative Writing. Their poetry uses the lyric voice to explore queerness, the uncanny, and radical tenderness/awkwardness. Their work can be read in Amberflora, Smithereens Magazine, and HVTN. Twitter: @blythezarozinia


All images by Blythe Zarozinia Aimson