A shout across spacetime--
infinite
simal beam of light.

The warm overwash of watercolor cadence--
joy of numbers not
patterned together before under your
nameless eyes faceless voice--

When you stand in the wheatfield
the crows sing, too
if you listen.

I am drawn to what destroys me

You are the smoke in my lungs,
the alcohol in my bloodstream,
a drug injected in my vein

You don't know what love is,
yet you consume mine like a parasite

(You overwash your hands
lather, rinse, repeat
You **** the goodness from my heart
love me, hate me, leave me,
repeat)