Beneath the craving of the flesh
there is the craving of the doorstep,
the entryway, their pitiful bodies
that I am separated from

I realize now,
habit of the old gods,
I eat what I cannot be.
(4/4)

and for a moment there is nothing between us
and I,
I am a flame in their hearts
i hope they understand what lies between us is only laws set upon me

In the moment I consume what came to their doorstep
I like the flesh
but I want more the fear of those watching.
(3/4)

I hardly can tell between human and human
and draw blood only where my bindings do not latch and draw me back
but I take a perverse pleasure in the seeing of those I defend see me
for a second the fear of them is indistinguishable from the fear of those I eat
(2/4)

#poetry

#poetry

Divinity is where one knows their own minutiae
and where there is one flesh
The divinity lies in what the one flesh knows, which is above those who existed before

is in cigarettes, burned down to the filter,
or not
Divinity is in my friends pipe tobacco collection
Cupboards full of stacked jars, in an organization
Incomprehensible to me who watches him open the doors to it when we visit

#poetry

me who he presses himself against
infinite recursion of the timeless game
infinite repetition of the timeless pattern
He puts two words from his throat into mine as I tremble
- repeated eulogy -
the mind shuts down as he looses the knot of me

#poetry

#poetry

#poetry

That even this one does not exist
This I uncomfortably know
but if there is not terror when alone
there is not self
and if there is not self
who is it that speaks when not alone?

or is the self only that which speaks and acts
A thought that makes me vomit

the question is left at the core of things
a terror runs through the body
It clenches, forms shapeless
desiccation cracks,
divinity is scared
but is — only by itself
puffs out like shadows in a staircase
when the entrance door is opened
retreats to corners and dies

Each person’s gravity pulls me in
I believe everything they say for
as long as they are able to articulate it

left to myself,
i am washed in a lavabo
Innocens sum sanguinis huius iusti.
life goes and dies elsewhere, away from me
away from from that which holds me