Partly because I couldn't be drawn to care,
and partly because my bed is warm...

---
she's got her hands twisted up in a blanket...

Beneath my ribs, an intrinsic understanding of
warm muscle, steady breath...

Once, I thought I'd leave a place and find myself.
I arrived, wrapped myself in sand...

Mindlessly,
I divulge information...

My muse jumped ship, as I was sailing home.
I strung the lyrics of her creation into rope...

Lately, the forest is dank
with mussed trees...

Forms are hard, I don't like trying to
*usher my words into something straight, I like...

To the cold snake coiled in my belly--
I say with aching patience, yet again, please...

It starts at evening, the silent weave of scent
billowing through the door, seeping in the carpet...

If I'm being melodramatic,
then you are like a broken hinge...

I feel sometimes that I've lived my life in...
An apathetic, or was it anesthetized instrument...