I've heard these words sung
in every life
I've ever touched
and this
quarrelsome
touch
of the love we need
of the warmth we crave
shunned
shivered
pruned, and carved, and withered
a skull made in my own name
staring to
this pearl of dreams
this orb of truth
I see my face
and I,
happy-shrunk
hung from
tethers
I'd never name
to long for the touch of
a hungry man's wish
and I curl my fists
the words etched in stone
plaqued on my wall
dirges of a future haul
and my mind flicks back
and screams in blood
because there is
numbers written
on my grave
and I fear
the day
that I forget
my name