she traced her fingertips,
along the frosted window;
soft gasps danced between mouths.

supple lips brush, sweep,
tenderness is exchanged;
in laps, for innocence in waves.

sheeps clothing, stiffined;
the frost embedded in its weaving.
bodies manifesting steam,
as alchemists.

mn.

creeping under fingertips,
**** licked in helplessness
Thunder down gnawed bone.
loosing senses
loosing intuition
loosing yourself as you find sharper pieces.
slit that noose around your tongue
youll find a leaky faucet,
dripping out demons.


are you still here or are you watching your heart beating.

go find a hiding place
while i hack up the pieces.

falling off the deep end with
bruised knuckles;
skinned, bleedin.

shove my hand in the bag we are keeping the matches,
inhale the sulfur,
then bathe in the ashes.

the wolves are coming here
baby
youll want to hide soon.

screams will be echoed,
bouncing off the moon.

i hope one day, someone slices your fingers.
        madolins them like
onions.
and they cut through your Bones,
and don't stop till your hands are
gone,
just big Knobby wrists on
arms.

I wonder if God
    sees our numbered
breaths, how many
     have been & how
many are left,
millions of digits
    shifting above
our heads;
the old woman
 on the park bench
        with just 500 left. 
The jogger with 100
   between now &
        tonight when he
will exhale
     for a final time.
I should scale mountains,
         stare at the sun
  make my amount
  count, every last one.