brief passages on love and space

she opened herself up to me, not unlike an ashtray

shattered against the brick in a jet of glass

*

heroin abuse; which is to say,
the kleptomania of life exercised
in somatic waiting rooms, the tarring
and melting of space down to
bubbled cardiac stones

*

long distance, we tried
stacking roads across mauve deserts
and flatline constructs:

our automobiles crashed into each other
so we just kept driving

*

i opened myself vertically, which is to say,
nerve ending from nerve ending; a stripped
dandelion with nothing to lose is still a torch;
an old milwaukee pipe bomb
jammed in the notional storm drains that
i tell myself are blackout-dry

*

we tried meeting in the middle again, this time
among the bodies of our previous attempts
nailed above the transepts segmenting our cathedral into fragments
legible only when reduced to the nth power: which semantic
machine would flay us would disfigure us
this time? had we not effected the restitution of space
through our acts of desiring into being
the fulminating truth of fucking like animals

2018-06-16T06:00:32+00:00