Pinprick beneath the valley of ribs.
Your mousy heartbeat sounding
Endlessly, namelessly as static.
What used to be swollen with purpose, constipated
With pride, greasy and blistered as a cocktail sausage,
Is now an old wound.

It needs a poultice, a placeholder of semantics
For the palms praying to the peerless sky. You
Used to be pedantic. Now ease is the strangest feeling; 
Born of the dailiness of splitting hairs
Between us, over and
Over.

Your crossed arms, numb under mine,
Frame my grave in a way that's nearly sacramental.
Left barren too of hope for you. It's not fair to
Create it out of nothing, like some ****** pregnancy.
God won’t come to hold you down — Go to him, and start
Over;

Or stay curled up by the window like a vegetable
While time makes cautionary tales
Of lucent billboards that brand the street,
Infected by moths numerous as ****.

Subdued and flickering out,
They don’t concern me anymore. Now I
Contemplate cleft-lipped fractures in the concrete
Cracking seedy smiles at me, and grow
Quietly dim as understanding takes
Over.