i am lost and that is no wonder in the world.
we have our monsters
and the picture of our beautiful, is the sting . not the beast,
i need to sleep awhile... because the night is the night
and God weary.
i have no hands to grasp this completely
but i have you
to make terrible, my every concoction
of how it truly Is.
but here it comes.
i do not linger where you want.
i ***** and trump in the loam
of our distinguished withering
and amass a lump of false joy
for our trouble.
could you love me in my narrow caul ?
would you allow for the winters of our rubies
and still be sweet ?
can we sever
the ties that blind
and regard the sun
a friend ?
when so much
is the devil's orphan
and so little
the day's
moon ?
can we wait ?
Or are you such as I -
and can no longer be
Yes
when the short answer
is a Novel ?
that hasn't slept....