would I could I have gotten
you, but I have this:
but I hold my downfall
between bubbles, or
between slurring fingertips;
pressure
loss, diffident
indifference,
bitter delirium, I
wake through the
marshes of all
thoughts I call mine, but
she, with quivering hands,
pulls trumps and
bares teeth and

i, small creature i,
decompose another fraction,
break and bend and
swallow no pride, tonight.

so hallowed, these lives!
like I lie, in-between
awake or no such dream or
the pursuit of impossibility:
an appetite turning these
wheels to drive us each home to
each of our own tiny
fallacious undestinies,
where lined veins underhandedly
tighten and leave,
stumble or bleed;
traces of the same want and amount of nothing.

from lustgarden cradled in concrete i
turn corners, i
recompose, with eyes alight. i
bare teeth, i
wake and bleed,
and still see.

I still breathe.