I waste myself for you, oh page.
I battle sleep and demons and
Face what I would otherwise
Curtail, for the simple act of
Filling you up.

I trap everything that I am
Within you, page. A web for my
Foggy thoughts, dew caught like
Tears, crystallising the opaque
Within my life.

You are the recipient in my mind,
Oh page. Brain chatter forced into
Structure, a soldier. Almost a child.
You **** me like an alpha, my borrowed
Pleas at your feet.

And so I tread you like infant snow.
Each print a scar, each word a brittle
**** stem. Your silence a truth beyond
My own and whatever I say
Will pollute it.

So I walk round in circles. Tiptoes
Like sparrows, piecrust shapes in
The snow. I walk in circles to not
Carve a path. To hide my meaning.

Don’t follow me home.