Tonight, I lean against the windowpane,
Crack it open to the sound of January rain
That falls soft in the shadows of trees, and sings.
I inhale, dream of you and the smell of spring;
(I am the roots that grow from the detritus of dead and dying things.)

I want to cut myself on the jagged edge of your mind,
Knees raw and weeping red as I traverse the other side,
I want to scream through the walls of your philosophy,
Until my voice rips ragged, until every sound is profanity.
I want to drag you back from this obscenity.

I want to eat your heavy, burdened heart and offer one fresh,
Torn ripe and ****** straight from the beast’s chest
Into my cupped palms, pounding fuchsia and new: Take it.
Take back the strength it stole from you.

I want to crawl through the collapsed tunnels of your cancered mind,
Down deep chasms where your weary soul withdrew,
Past where you lost your way and dug your grave
To find the opening where sunlight once filtered through;
Then I would squat there, **** love
Until it stuck to your ribs and grew—
Until you glowed with the health of it, until
You rose from dirt or ashes or wherever the ****— and flew.
So claw out from that cave, and let the rain cleanse you.

For this morning it was winter, and you were dead;
But tonight is spring..

Let’s begin again.