I always make things harder than it needs to be, I run in circles and complain when I'm dizzy, walk up a steeper route only to slide all the way down to the bottom, push everyone far enough for them to leave then say I'm lonely. It's funny what I can ruin – everything.

I'm like a chemical, the only one known to corrode friendships and rust nothing but itself. Not approved by the FDA and definitely not fit for human consumption. I reek of such acidity that I hurt fragile corneas and sting delicate noses. It's kind of ironic because I'm supposed to only react with this peculiar clear liquid called self-sabotage and only that, but somehow I have managed to slip and ruin everything that comes in contact with me.

Maybe one day I'll find someone that doesn't mind damaged corneas and sharp smells up their nose. Maybe one day I myself won't mind it.

at the point of entry (explicit)

it does not strike me strange
at the point of entry
when the heightened senses and the dark subconscious merge

when the lust and the sweat intersect
with ego desire and self is everlasting everything
that the ***** words secretion is sticky on my tongue

when I pant poems born in rawness and tears
on this the last day of the year
and eyes closed see visions extraordinaire
and the Maker whispers in both ears see!

it is the see of what is me,
it is the point of entry and departure,
one and the same,
conception an immaculate mess,
the emptying and the fulfilling, when unkempt promises
are born free flowing and semi-truths transform into
actualities unforeseen and my child cells of new poems
are injected, stored, awaiting the birthright
and the death of publication,
my moment of privileged perfection passes
and frowns and smiles are
one and the same, silken thread wove open and shut

the precision precious circumcising of flesh and soul departing

the utter collapse from within, the drowning in the amniotic,
rebirthing rebutting my denying that I have no more to give

I believe I belong to you for it is what the desire firing cylinders
say repeatedly in the union of the up and the down cycle:

come, come inside me,
I am the pleasure
you are the treasure
in one cup measured
conjoined container
when the point of entry is the point of departure
and with eyes closed from satisfaction and prayer
I see everything all at the same time, uttering:

I am undone utterly and the difference between
the end and the beginning can be seen only
at the millisecond long seven decade coming
point of entry

12/31/17 5:38am dawn dying and new day mourning