I.

The Good Death
    I hear thunder burn and crack against the window panes again tonight,
frightneed by the shapes on my wall
I press my body closer to you -

where are the veins? thumping, still
eternally (as always)

But blood - little sacrifice to a man never afraid,

always naked
always burning
always longing to be a wall and never surrender.

You wear my clothes
   mirror my eyes with silk.

II.

A flash of blonde hair in the darkening hours as the crack
of thunder breaks    against the glass
       “Metaphysical.”

Gabriel  ?
  Something thicker, more permanent.
I see only the shape of your nose cast shadows
against the wall
to swallow the devils fingers
with a smile.

Blonde hair in the sand,
in my sink
broken up by ****** teeth
   and cracked porcelain.

Shaving cream drying on the taps.

III.

The almost platonic revelation that all exists as one
breaks from your lips like water,  

The smell of bleach perforates the boundary between my bathroom and God.

My scalp burns, swelters.

   I realise them as my lips,
for you are simply the shadow
made manifest by forest wire and broken glass

walking barefoot and naked through hell -
I create you.

Come, tell me of how to accompany paradox that
builds us from the ground up

the one and the many
burning bridges in sunlight
to guide us.

Breaking bones in the silence to free us