You’re full of waste and shards of nothing
Pierced in care
And false in all.
You handle hope
Like a knife
Ready to wield all your passion in pain especially.
You’ve tiny margins in your notebook heart
Pencil me in dear
Where you have time.
You cross wires
With spread legs
Put your wet lips on my cracked mouth.
I will fight for the death of all we are
Nothing sings true
Until it’s buried alive.
