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we always make something out of nothing
and I'd like you to tell me what takes
the salve from your fingertips and
evaporates it over the flat concrete
of my
arithmetically defined snapdragon flowerbed of a
heart

this pulsing beat makes my eyelashes want to bleed out
saltily

you wish you were a hero and I

I wish you would sit down now and then and
fill in the peeling parts of me
with the fresh paint of your presence.

No, I don't want a drink and yes,
we should go somewhere where
my shimmering toes don't tap out
a rhythm inconsistent with the gyrations
of all those perfect angled corpses
on the pitted dancefloor.

I miss the day when you sat in that cheap
hospital chair and told me everything was
just an illusion and the only reality was
us

maybe now all that's genuine
are those ashflowers flashing their hips
behind you and yes,
maybe you should just turn for once
and dance.

Don't worry about me, the leaves
are falling from the tree of Knowledge
and piling at my feet
and
oh god, this tabletop can hold my head
because I just found that inside
my pillowcase suffer stolen fragments
of flight

I wish I could copyright your
love so that it would only glow like a hundred hundred fireflies
for me

and you are spacing past her eggplant flapping lips
and don't you yearn to
melt our Fate-sealed chains so
you could have some of that?