a clenched fist need not hold much
but the infections in my mind
in the deepest crevice
is the illness I fear
puts too much weight on
my once soft temples
now they are crammed
they want to burst
to relieve the me of the painful words
I cannot say to you.

You know nothing
Of what lies under
my frozen cheek
beneath me as we
condensate.
This is the truest thing
I’ve ever heard.
A warm rhythm,
That you
will never hum.