You stroke my hair
Whilst I smooth the flesh
                  That without muscle hangs

Outside the clouds
Turn into a landscape
Obscured by haze
                                     In that moment
I forget the fading time allotted to us
And the reality
Of both our consequences

i bark, and
i lap up vinegared wine from my bowl
laden with sprinkles of fruit flies.

my collar is on
but my leash, real long.
i’m not in earshot, but
i don’t stray too far.

Use me—
whatever you need,
I’ll bend, I’ll bleed.
Take the best of me
and then the rest of me—
I won’t make a sound.

Be selfish,
be ruthless,
drain me drop by drop.
I won’t ask for kindness,
I won’t ask you to stop.

My heart is not a temple,
it’s a tool in your hand.
Worn and splintered—still,
I’ll try to understand.

You don’t owe me softness,
you don’t owe me grace.
Just don’t disappear.
Just don’t erase
me.

I don’t need love,
not even your name,
just let me exist
as a player in your game.

I’ll carry the weight,
I’ll silence the ache,
if you only let me
be something you take.

Don’t return a favor,
don’t pretend to care—
just keep me around,
just leave me there.

Use me,
bruise me,
I won’t mind.
I’d rather be broken
than left behind.

oh, the bliss that must come with
the ignorance to your own actions
the knives you spit with vehemence  
whether involuntary or by choice
a deaf man could’ve felt
the disappointment in your voice

This strange soul calls to mine,
Alluring, fascinating, vexing.
This strange pull, as a rapid wind,
Somehow pushing, still pulling, and taxing.

Strange spirit speaks a foreign tongue.
I speak with no tongue at all.
I would give my soul, my heart, a lung
To stop its decay. Here leaves in fall.

Strange spirit presses soft, then firm.
My spirit falters often.
Strange spirit ever lives and learns,
Cradle, sky, to coffin.

Today begins the Tenebrae
The extinguishing of candles
The gradual diminishing of light
Then a loud noise in the darkness
It's not practiced much these days
You need the requisite clergy
And the will to witness after midnight
the desire for which deserts me
It seems older than Christ
Redolent of the Egyptians
Like Sekhmet in her Karnak chapel
Unlit
Against time
Resistant.

But all I have is empty cupboards
behind a cellar door