Making letters out of the noises
of night paranoid minds hear, changing
their order, their
direction, pissing on context,
Demanding a second look,
a third look,
looks
upon
looks,
and the ones I gave you
before I knew what they meant.
Three words, three shovels.
Three words, three graves.
Three words, watch them move and
still under your stare.
I counted the words on my fingers.
I counted them
over
and over,
mumbling into mantra,
words and numbers,
numbers and
words,
A combination for this safe,
a name for this needle.
I sit back and watch
the years stitch together.