Brooding over impossible things
lifetimes away, hungering.
Warmth in a cold chapel, metal handles.
Angels too far away. Father, help.

Walking home in the rain.
Subway plastered by dim memories
of other people: getting love from a stranger
or handled preciously
on a train.

Not crying for effort in a touch.
Ban this all you want, it's not controlled
not altered.
Never deleted.
Turn the keyboard round.

A clue sticks there. Bright sign
on the your wall. Don't scream now.
It's been there a while, behind your eyes.
In the shower, hot liquid falls over you
mental ladders into your head.