i wait, horizontal, for this night and parallel
when of formidable masculine discharge
by knees and elbowsandfists. shins and
bones. i reposit into a muscled sack of
organs
whom might think
they can stop me
o, pain
deftly serious and bright, your arms firstly singing
callouses and knuckles lucky
lift lucidity of skull and flesh
to murky shores unknown
and felt(when woken in your
plumes of soft purple speckled
of boney cages
i think you'll find i was better