"low down dirty pervert" by Finnialla
nutholepublishing.substack.com
"low down dirty pervert" by Finnialla
A Poem
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Finnialla (Finn-all-uh) is a perpetually tired writer and artist. They got their BFA from an art school like an idiot. Since college, they have found work as a staff writer for the Incognito Press, Queer Gaze, and Democratic Left. They started PULP lit mag in 2024 and have been published in multiple indie magazines for poetry. When they aren’t writing, you can usually find them hanging out in a trash can or fighting raccoons for dominance in a Denny’s parking lot.
If you want to reach out, you can find them on their totally killer website, https://finn-all-uh.org/ or check out their Twitter for weird hyperfixations and 2 am shitty ramblings, (@finn_all_uh). They stopped biting people, mostly.
not one of those mass produced queers, homogeneity rhymes with celibacy LGBTQ lite with a hint of lime, sprinkle some gentrification and call queer uprisings a crime throw a brick at the citibank pride float before a hookup with the cookie cutter lipstick lesbian i met on tinder no strap on to fuck myself with so I leave unsatisfied; “only date real girls” she moans when she comes bathed in unrepentant lust and edible glitter smoke a pack of american spirits after eating a girl out in the men’s bathroom, use her cunt to choke myself till I see stars, chase it with cheap tequila and a twink, versatile multiple partners that all run together down my thighs, stain my sheets, brand them as mine & make them leave before dawn i wanna drown with your fluids filling my mouth, every drop makes me insatiable; like a dying man in the desert, searching for water to quench his unrepentant thirst used like a sex toy, ride your high until my batteries run out hold me down when i squirm underneath you “i’m coming out” blares in the background when you cum for me; the first time, second time, every time your man couldn’t get you to orgasm like you're crashing into a wave, surfing your own pleasure, shake and spasm as you coat yourself in slick wetness, i’ll lap it up like your dog, want to be a good boy or girl or whatever, i think, my gender doesn’t exist, when you moan my name and scream for more saunter into a church in search of salvation, repent to Jesus and pray for a miracle, got on my knees and opened my mouth, gagged on his heavenly presence until tears ran down my cheeks let the lord use it to his liking and wipe the excess on my chin swallow down the good word like a disciple of the faith until my throat aches, body quakes, eyes can’t stay open any more make room for the holy ghost in our threesomes, on the bedspread I stole from my mom he’ll sit and watch as I enter you, whispering psalms into the curves of your flesh I feel the most spiritual with your thighs around my face, a renewed Christian when I’m gasping to breathe Eat the nuns out in the confessional, peg the priest on the altar, make God blush immodestly as I drown his house in lust find myself on the streets again, just for one more round of pleasure, itching for my next high Just a low down dirty pervert, in search of satisfaction that’ll never come.