you are not my
DISEMBODIED BOY -- this
caress cold skin loudspeaker bold against you/me
is filled with the willingness to live, alongside
warmth that is wholly mine, finally...
.... green coffee carpet rests in my mind
as a crackling and sad stillness. the crows
voodoospeak as the sky is
sinking into the earth::they peck at
memory as if it is the weakest prey
they can find.
MOVING ON: your hands in mine --
the caress cold skin loudspeaker nightmare
bold against only me, begging to be let out into
the hungry mouths of vultures that go by
my own name...
