Go home to softness,
to that feeling,
of waste, and the thick glow,
of light, cold,
on the ceiling,
don't get up for anything.
The future is only an idea.

Feeling my body,
turn over again,
fresh green,
in the May leaves,
a newness seeks you out,
it is asking,
to be held.

You, loving this like your own face,
bearing your skin to the crowd,
to be feared and entirely known,
to miss the change,
we were all holding onto the moment.

And me,
joining the fray,
Gathered round,
This kitchen table,
To grow full with meaning.

There, right there,
that was the future I wanted,
and you glowing like moonlight,
with the most beautiful mind,
The world and all of it's crevices,
are making you up,
not me, this time.

Only asked to be know,
The insect crawled,
The warm sun,
And the ripe fruit,
Loving all like it was a sickness,
I know, when I go,
To you or to the end,
All that will be left,
Are the parts of me,
That were eaten.

What you wanted,
Was to be known,
And I met you,
Like the end of a summer,
Like the start of something dead,
An entirety to feast on,
It was the right way to live.

Pull out the teeth,
Of the dog you raised,
Promise to be gentle,
This sick freak,
Smelling of ****,
Biting your hand,
When you do it,
The blood where the gums hit the skin,
The blood,
In the fur,
And I said
Love is pain,
it must be,
If this is the way you choose to live,
And you want it,
An animal in your house.

she absolutely adores you