I hope I am right not
to allow my body to drag it's lifeless parts back to you
to bathe in your distorted clarity

I wake in the dark parts of the night
when beings battle their ghosts
and sleep dances with death and
I find my right arm attempting to escape my 12x12 coffin
fingernails clawing the wood floors
escaping down the hall
to get out the door
to get down the street
to get to your bed
to touch your nectarous skin

And I would eagerly follow
in pursuit of my runaway arm
but gladly finding coherence in your kiss
your kiss of such insane sanity
that my tastebuds long to make sense of

But I've learned to lock my doors
less to keep predators out and
more to keep my wondering parts in
because heaven knows
they'll find the cracks under the door
and pick at the window's fraying screens
and in the morning I'll find them scattered about the house
and pull them back to my chest to put me
back together
again