There is a place
in you
that needs a name
but you're an absolute beginner
at naming things.
Centred in this pathos, I've never known

whether to create stillness or bitter passion.
In this, there is a sacrifice,
something to see through to the end.

The openness I sometimes extract
can break me down.
Is it better
to find a way to say it?
Would it be better to hang for it

or to forget
how the fig is fertilised?
In its sweetness,
to forget
the distaste of undermining friendship.
I have stretched myself into the past.

I have stretched my body
to see the places it could end.
Vein bubbles
from where it started,
wet bloodgasps;
sorry smear of a poem

they write your name next to.
History repeats, all that's left;
neutrality at the cost of
a better passion,
and the count of
how many ribs you have and how many you've lost.

I abuse my fingers
and still expect them to carry me through.
There's always a way
to see trauma as something to crawl into.

Everything reminds me of you, and ****, do I love it or do I hate it? It hurts, but it's worth the pain. Because for just a moment, things are how they used to be. We are holding hands, I can feel your heartbeat, you keep glancing at my mouth when we're talking. And my God...My God I cannot put into words how much I miss it. But right now, I'm standing in the street where we were once laying, limbs entwined, warm despite the cool breeze, looking at the stars at two in the morning. Now I am standing here and it is no longer Winter, but I can still feel the coldness.

Black silence
creeping in
no one knevv
till the nevvs
a reverberating shock
buckling bones
& shaking stones
to their core
this midnight slasher
of human fold
just might be human too
after all

Death is an amerous being
Whose arms only want to hold you
The sky in Ohio is gray
Deny
Refute his claim
His conquering of your flesh
His irascible nature incurable
That your not ready to join him
In whatever darkness is his aim
His joy
His lonely and greedy demands
His need for fossils
Keep your light
Give your life
When the time is right
The sky in Ohio is gray

You have a chance
Take it and run
Away from his hateful clutch