The cracks in the tile, the foam
on the glass, coalescing iotas,
joined jots, and I see your face.

Mis-en-scenes of sweat, alone
in my room at morning, the
second time I've seen your face
today, and I want to leave some
on my chest.

This is for you. This is for you
And it's all I'll ever be.

So have me taste you - and
consume me. And glut over the
sinewy linings of my edges. Let
moments on the insidde of my
eyes. Show me.

So have me feel you - and splinter
me. And love me til I shatter.
Let me watch, as hands that smell
of honesty and your roughness
press knuckles into my thighs
and bruise them. Show me.

So have me worship you - and
condemn me...

Have me a heresiarch of human
days. Grand me an opprobrium
from sense. Let the scars
that I be you to place upon
me never fade back into the
ideas of my flesh.
Show me, and please, show me
that I'll see your face not
only in the small, but in the
larger death for want.