In these hours
I look at your face  
I think
We two, separated, so long.

You with your drugs and ***, miniscule friends.
Celebrating a pale youth down bright corridors.
Me stagnating inside a corner or a cabinet of a deep red mind.
Brushing away cobwebs for years,
finally, to make room for you.

When we met again,
On the beach
Or on a ***** sidewalk
Or in the basement
Or with you beside me

With patiently thick fingers
Me screaming
**** me, **** me

It wasn't enough that time to ease the physical pain.
Years of ******* standing slouching smoking,

The complete erasure of my past coming in waves and then, suddenly,
Creeping back into the dark next to the spiders:

A man here, taking me for granted,
A dress with a tear near the knee,
An empty space
A mother placing her daughter tightly away in a large granite box a top a musty gray shelf and waiting outside with the key.

And me inside
And me inside

And the music, a century of loneliness and terror
others and their pain and my own

It all crashed down yesterday

Aha!
         I've got you now!