at 3AM the taste makes sense
your flavour gently
formless, yet;
clap inwards, roam safely now

for, two weeks gone, August died
once the sky mill's lights came crashing down
a sunless ****** ably refined by the opulent gunshot
whence your neck, once slim as a bottle's kiln poured plume,
yielded crackling splinters and a bully ragged tie

how quickly the lips of entrapment ****** your memory
the venerable address of a cruel decay, corked
and crucified over willow wrought applause

the unsecured dregs of my dreams drag themselves,
desecrated, yet still breathing, into
a barren sensibility of service
to so sadistic a cheer

you identify yourself as a counterpoint to heat
burning tissues and tighter crosses,
laid across your stretched stomach
while the flirt aperture fades to a crumbed splice

I agreed to outlive my extinction
so long as you willed a heaven fish wriggle free
from the pressed seawater and shrink my temptation

and that beast, like every other, had a treasonous heart
once it knew the single human truth, the martyrs glee for murderous poetry,
where biology cascades dominion
into the thrice strangled terror of life