I hate to fall to you,
Sandman,
I
Succumb
To you,
Sandman.

You do this
Thing
Where you leech
The good dream
And leave.

And—
When I wake
It feels like
I never even
Took a break—

Thanks to you,
Sandman,
I am
Just a
Tired  
Man.

To    ,
            
 Whom I relinquished my
     fears
     sanity
 heart, and my future for,
            soul
               being
 I beg you, please—
 harbor me once more.

 Allow my skin to touch
 your breathless whispers,
             kisses
                              caresses
 And allow my devotion
 to cradle your tender being.

 For I would whelve you—
             envelop you—
             fold you—
 unto mine,
 and we
 would become one.
            
Guilelessly,
Plainly,
With Love,

You reek of smoke and heartbreak.

There is a forest fire raging in your gaze
that I cannot extinguish with mine.

It can be doused, perhaps—
or smothered
with more eyes and more eyes and more eyes—
but my water pail is filled with Patrón.
I cannot quell it alone.

The thirst in your wildfire eyes
is drying me to leather;
jerky for the vultures.

Maybe they
can quench it.

I am alcohol and lame steak.
You are smoke
and heartbreak.

There are bones in the wood;
cracking, groaning, shattering.
The skeleton of what could
Have
            Been

There are bones in the wood;
whistling, wailing, whispering.
The skeleton is not pure—not good
It
            Still
                        Has
           ­                         Flesh

Ready, aim…and fire!
            Chatter and laughter and explosions in the sky,
            Our youth burned out—then rose the mourning choir…
Ready? Aim and fire…
            We cling to wartime needs and the will to survive to acquire
            A win against the adversary, and not die.
Ready, aim, and fire.
            Chatter and laughter and explosions in the sky.