you - the oceanic monstrous myth that lives
inside me, stirring panic and unyielding
bouts of sudden spasms that wrack the body
until i'm wrung out, wailing
bare bones exposed in the rolling receptacle
coasting along the highway until i'm sure they'll
pull me over and commit me.
it doesn't matter - i understand less
of what i fill my days with than what i know
from three minutes at your side;
the old songs fill my ears
with dilated silences
we're all contortionists,
i'm afraid the sunlight blazing
in your room that day might
revisit me, and i - by some cosmic fluke -
will combust and disintegrate,
a star bursting into dust
at your feet. i know
people don't keep well, all
angles of light and skin
stretched across bones,
face and eyes yellowing
i know you don't want mourning
but i don't have any other word
