Running, cold, unclothed,
reaching, dirt dry lonely roads
I found you.

Meek, nearly silent
beside my quiet roar.
A tremble, lightning writing
across an already blinding sky.
When the darkness came, though,
as I knew it would, the brightest of beacons
burned good above the ill will and good
above the desiccated peace.
I sang to you sadly, honestly, of my art.
I do this all to myself, though, out of control
and unstoppably. Your knowing mouth opened,
you spoke.

The moment
I saw you I wanted
Your disease in me