how could i have known
that a "humble life"
meant such darkness,
such suffocation?

your eyes
are too knowing of me,
and light the night road with an orange spill
(squeeze...crinkle)

i have changed.

now, i'd rather wander about
perfect darkness

(i'd rather be blind and deaf)

you came to know me
too well, that what i was most afraid of

that somebody
would get to know me
too well
(as i writhed)

but since then,
i have become
strange

i cant seem
to come
to hate you

                    i cannot
       hate. i cannot;
                    that sort of
       passion? there is no such
                    desire. there

can't be.
me?

i had to make you disappear
you, who follows me
is followed by me as i outstretch
my hand and in the darkness
***** blindly

my insides are not my insides,
as they have rotten away to promise nothing
ever again

i spilled out my insides
and left a flirtatious
stain on the sidewalk