descend on eyes
break like eggs
with enough time
for this existing
is only an eggcup
a clotted shell
losing its white
cornsilk and brides
the messwork of
broken to know
generations of moss
like a child knows
pink and growing aches
for this body
is endemic to hours,
patchwork of clotted
flesh and dough, I
at the oddest touch
the palest wave
fell on my bones
milled them talc
I'll truly be
calcium, residue of
egg-crack, the bite / of sound, chalk as / bright and / milk as if sudden / petals on linoleum / fell like the twenty-eighth floor jump / of an idiot in ecstasy / like I was / an altitude, / wasn't even expecting / being numb for air, / for shattered carnation, a sweet spill over the lip / introducing skull to the nature of cement / too early / snow too perfectly shaped for / gorgeous hurt, a plunge / bleachness of youth / twenty-eight stories of my youth, / all the unfallen flesh / until now I have held out like hope over a taught spinal shutters / falling / whitely, laughing / fastly, lately, / I have been a gust of love / a birdsong in creases / a paraffin of birthday cakes / frosting the floor as / inevitably, only ever one pack of candles / I have been / lit, enduring shimmer / in a stray oilslick puddle / I have been jumping / like silver carp / devotion to air has meant gulping for air / attending to the plastic and glass / I only now prefer / the idiocy of unending, the sound / of rushing / air through the hours of / frozenness standing on a knee-scrape of sky, / numb as air / and proclaiming all life / the sound of / the egg-crack, the bite.
now I lose.
only becoming halfbirds.
fly into grey matter.
churn and unglue, I.
unto unloveliness, unto.
unto white, a cushion.
until one day.
the bloated dullness ends.
wings, snapped old and shut like a smile.
hope, but for ending.
intact but for a padded cell.
expired like eggs.
in a carton, in a moment then.
I become a.
of myself, sober.
pathology of intotality.
god, I feel.
you are fragility.
you are a shower curtain that rents the clean from the unclean and
carves two shut eyes.
you are set on the bathroom floor in an asterisk of teeth and
you are floating in a curtled ponddepth of yourself.
you are trying to pick yourself up again and I don't think you'll
be able to, because
you are bent like a wrist for arthritic seat-cover.
you are eaten by decades and echoed in a dry heave.
you are dizzied, to be again a spectre in becoming.
you are a callousness of retching curtled atmosphere:
as if ejecting the purity of a cockcrow could even prove the grace of littleness.
you are mouth to mouth on a wave of sick.
you are the perfect acoustic of a toilet bowl.
you are a cheesecloth lay-in, cured and pressed around the
torso that's left to youat the end.
you are dumb and whittled to the perfect chalk-width of a
you are the ash on your knees from all the tile floors and meals
of uneaten soot.
you are ashy on your knees like all orphans.
you are a caulking of tears calicified.
you are the white of a soft-boiled egg.
you are never to taste yellow.
you are two fingers glued like a scout salute.
you are a final salute rinsed under 8 degrees of water
right from the faucet.
you are the dryness of handtowel after.
you are always an inch from finding marine snow, finespun out
of your guts.
you are to know the vague promise of finality in flecks of melting at the end of
you are the measure of love when you leave in a backthroat of
whey and bleach.
you are hot red on the edge of love and whiteness.
you are veinwork of years bleeding into the abyss of an s-curve.
you are leftovers of the impossibility of a soul after an
adulthood of hunger.
you are testament to the ultimate truth of throatlight,
including that life is a suffusion of things not meant to pass
back between your
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