So call yourself into each token of human progression;
all the orbiting rays of your spent time, solid earnings:
your toothbrush, cigarettes, bedsheets,
so I may devour each
with such splendor and exuding forces,
that can absorb you onto me.

Tickling each bed of moss, the underground, where human ignorance barely touches us; the sheds of light battling us in our soft, black, velvetine bag. Pull the drawstrings tighter, seal off the mouth of the outside monster to almost a whisper. We can plug our ears with stray buttons, orphan belongings to find voyage in our love.
Let me swim in your mouth, make a home on your teeth where I can admire each fleeing word from your gold lined throats. I can wave goodbye to thrown up anger and set you free, light thick fires on the bead of your tongue (set up camp and warm my hands.) I am here for every part of you.

Do I live here?
deep between the ripening caves of your teeth,
or the rips of soft flesh on your lips,
where I can fly within your bloodsteam, explore the cells and explode the angry immigrants.
Airborne visitors.
ring the doors of your iris and build a home in your bones,
I can make myself all half of you:
beating between heartbeats.

I can convince your brain never to end, or explore the terrors of the world,
keep you safe and live forever.
I can hear bears inside these caves, we will dance forever to the wild hum inside you,
playing drums and eating fruit.

Where do they go?
Capsized cradle womb.
When finished arranging dates, are they left in bins to drift into soil and water supplies,
To be drank and consumed, and absorbed by cells,
Fresh and new.
Are they burnt? The jigsaw piece foetus, climbing above the ozone layer and into orbit,
Spinning dizzy and without warning, leaking back into universe.
Do they burrow in warm tree sap and burst into the leaves, taking up sun and moon into opening gaping mouths,
Silent with premature lungs.
Do they return to you? Slowly crawling back to the womb, forming tiny eyes in particles, opening blood and bodies,
Ready to be replaced, collecting dust.