this game
is not okay with me anymore.

you animal i am tired.

i am tired of the
antique glimmer in your eyes. boyish and
hunting and thirsty with instinct.

i am tired of the bones that jut through
your flesh and carve
into mine.

your knotted, silky figure drifting
and catching in the macrame nets
through the mammoth doorways
beneath the swelling curtains

in my mind you are an insect or
a wisp of frozen breath or
an actor sweeping the floor
with his eyelashes

at the end
of a brilliant
and terrifying
performance.