I see your silhouettes standing like
empty ghosts

everywhere I look around this city,
on the static sidewalks,

and like the stars etched into your shoulder blades,
I paint inside your lines
with the colours
of my heart.

I've got so much for you,

(fingers that play twister with yours,

stencils carving your name just above your skin just
barely brushing baby hair around
your navel,

barely breathed words of love,

soft sandpaper stubble to drag out goose fleshed neck nape
as it reaches up to reach my chin,

slightly parted lips grazing yours and then a sudden
gasp of teeth into your skin,

waking wrapped around you in a moment I can make feel
more than a mere instant but like it would never end,

as the sun sneaks its way into the blinds
reflecting soft shadows off of your every angle,
and the power to
take
your
breath
away.)

if you'd only accept it...if you'd only accept it.

So much flesh,
crushed beneath
a metal press

and like my mercurial mind,
it flows from solid wax
to running oil

The smell of
the tropics,
and ***.

Crutching my way through the days,
until you come back this way.

Sleepless, harangued, hungry, tight.
Will I make it to the shore without your light?

Shudder the alarms,
I won't burden you with this weight
so fly
free
and come
back to
me.

The lens is out of focus,
for the first time,
the lens is out of focus.

This mixture of metol and phenidone is making
the edges show
clearer.

So hold me down,
run your fingers across me,
and I'll slide right into focus.

I was dreaming of things I didn't want to,
and woke towards your comfort

but it wasn't there

and that's what has hurt the most,
so far.