there's a few ways it manifests
just in every way
                                    some small tinge of preference
      erupts into a spiraling sink drain

dragging me into the dirt
                                                        of my own self worth

broken down by my fascinations until
                                       a new picture emerges

a different perspective
                                                           maybe this time better?

                            almost always worse




because I'll never deserve it

If there was nothing
Would you have left?
If there was nothing,
Could you say it with your chest?
As if the matter between us
Split the sky
Your hips
And my thighs
A tigh -tening
Grip
And the curve of your lips
I never noticed
Don’t retreat
Because you’re scared
To meet me
In my room
Under my skin
Beneath the clothes
Hell bent
Give in
Give in
Give in

if you don't think about me,

how'd you do it?

if jesus died for a passion
why can't i?