for jVk and Jeanne

One took me to the place
where X marked the spot,
and the other,
named what I was doing

Hand to Chest Poems
or
fist to mouth,
body to floor thrown,
couch drone shot down,
or bed ridden, done in,
if you are feeling kindly
towards your last ebb flown

but hand to chest,
just to touch the chest,
hands
V formed and in formation
on and where the
X
marks your body

when words rip you
as intended

but my fists
do not abide
a simple extinguishing,
a most modest putting out
of the roar of an inferno flaming,
licking me up with many
"welcome back fella"

no no no

your words have placed my hands
crisscrossed stitched upon my chest,
and they beat it twice for every
single exhalation of exhilaration,
singular pain ****** crushing me
from the inside out

my beating them back inside where
dormant they lay,
dormant they must stay,
lest I beat myself into oblivion prematurely,
robbing Father Time
from completing his watch,
from completing his rounds,
and me picking myself up
dear god, one more rhyme,
one more  2:33 am poem
rewritten again

When will the congestion in this body
be paroled, sentence served,
I know thine answer,
no need to taunt,
what ya got is an
ironic deathly
life sentence...