“It’s there.”

“It’s where?”

“It’s there.”

She’s pointing at my
hair.

“What’s there?”

“Your fear, it’s
hiding behind
your hair.”

“I do not fear.”

“Yes, you lie.”

“I do not lie.”

“It's there, hidden
behind
your eyes.”

Set the doll
aside?

What protects your knee
But your devotion to me?
You kneel down and scream
“Look at me, please,”
I hear a bug’s plea
You are nothing to me
Let your head hit my feet
You wretched beggar flea

your voice is a
low rasp
disguised as ambiance
you're a
wasp
and I’m the nest
you loud
little
pest

you cut open
pomegranate
or is it—
man go?

you take your knife
and you scrape
and you scrape
and you scrape
until it's bared all its pride
until all you hit is flimsy thin rind

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,