I left my heart in a dumpster.
My life in a gutter.
I shutter when i whisper,
We once loved one another.
As cold naked in the alley,
Under street post lamps.

Dark and damp, dark and damp.
I lay heaving cramps.

Everything is ugly its all grey,
As dust storm in the dead sea,
Every blink,
sand will fling,
to my eyes in my dreams.

The dust cant cover up your trashed out corpse.
Holes in your neck and feet,
I listen to your voice.
Save me. Save.

Longing and craving.
Save me. Save.
Death for today.

This desert of the city behind the pizza parlor.

I haven’t left this spot since it happened.
In between this depository for waste and my own waste of space.
Phantoms **** themselves, picked on by rats and freegans, and murderous ruffians of soul.
Everything here in this xeric hole.

Kills. Just kills.

No. Save me. Save.

I couldn’t my darling now your lost to this ****.
And with you alone my body shall die.
I shall lay with it here under this deadlampost moonlight.

We lay exhumed, tissues being destroyed by fungi,
destroyed and hungry, dead and corpsing,
mute, yet singing.
exalted, grieving.
love couldnt save us, yet the powers that be,
neglected our bodies,
lead our essence to become one with the streets.

I mentally pace back and forth tracing and tracking my train of thought and somewhere along these ragged,ratchet lines I get lost
My past right behind me has had it claws waged into my soul and regrets make their way to my tongue and come out as my apologies of unerasable black ballpoint markers that have mummified my previous lovers.
I have stopped corpsing but these cadavers wont get it
I sat there with my bent vertebra making sense of these calcified skeletons that have made a home in my remodeled closet right after being thrown out.An Elijah to them.
Our love being crucified by them.
But I hope that love is like Jesus or that somewhere in his genetics love is Jesus because if he is, with three days of darkness a resurrection is long over due. His eye filled with uncertainty.Regret wipes his smile away in a heart beat. His kisses turn bitter still hoping that love is Jesus or is the son of Jesus or a cousin even because then the hope that his kisses will be kisses again.

your Love