it's an
unlikely confluence. and inevitable
how
we
find (our)selves here
as if looking for each other. when
it isn't (for each other)
ever thattogether we're something of a dangerous entity
our monsters-in-waiting, creeping forward sheepish, malnourished,
introduce themselves politely
they give no
chase
grown
tired of us.
so what should
we
do for blood and
guts
to speak
of.
I find
in the tangle of our threads and lures
where your unsullied stream rushes into mine.
the love of
self-torture and virtues of denial. abominations, you
(should know) sacrifices counting for nothing just
our
scars and scary faces
touching
me
a little too deep-
ly
just
like you're
holding
my
face
in
faultless
hands
and then
(parting)
forgetting ourselves here,
we’re queer
in another sense
how we found
each other (each)
( lacking in ) something
scabbed and
scratching, hording and
greedy for
simple kind
words and
touches
your words pre-dating mine for centuries
in defeat;
we’ve been
fabricating
what doesn’t
exist and stretching
the
truth of
its fabric so far
it
nearly
could;
nearly covers the both
just
(barely)
with
our
chests scored and
faces
un-
adorned, seen and only shouted enough
a
mis-
placed
fragment of
light
holds
the
door of
one
room (to the other)
open
(our) parts
