We yield for funeral processions;
not for the living,
skulls and bones;
sells just as much as *** these days.
Our shiny teeth;
buried in the fruit to our gums,
vve glorify this dovvnfall:
consume,
             consume,
                          consumate.

Perhaps it is time.
I'll go back and say hello,
And maybe they'll smile.

God, I wanted to be a poet
Yet, we both know
That the only thing I have to do with poetry
is its declamation and ethereal breath of wind
I will be honest with you
I don’t understand your poems
Neither do I care about their meaning
Scraping of a trembling voice
Overwhelming noise
I am again all alone
out of tune chaos gone
Wipe my eyes while
I am losing myself
In glory of deep tones
In spasms and cracks of words
I feel so high
I feel so low
This is what you made me for

Die into me,

Every kiss is a prayer
As I whisper a prophesy
         To your body.

          The night will keep us
As we constellate our passion.

I die into you,

      I await you on the other side,
There open my soul
      And read the inscription:

   He died a thousand times,
Reborn inside her,
    The Sacrificial Lover.