Tsukamei

     I wear your shirt to bed at night     and dream of nipples tasting right between my lips and books and dreams    my needs are forced on paper reams     that metamorph to splinter sails      and surf my rattled inner eye      I count the worlds where caught fish praise         the hook that forces beauty's glaze       between the eyes of ewes who scream      and loves who have no saudered seems   

I'm sick of waking with the thought of this, your fingers at my neck in bliss, your wince that's wasted me in all dreams since, your hiss, and tight drawn bodice fit to wear a Prince Those sugar coated flinches make me smile, the careless, cheerful wile is gagged and stuffed. Was there a wink when you muffed things tactile? Will this, your rising bile, keep cruelty cuffed? A doubled rhyme scheme for your doubled heart! For your wet fear, a tart and sour lick. And for that inner prick, a work of art This vengeance, for my part, lasts but a tick. Oh pointless cries of love, and yes, of pain! Lost sainthood and shed blood one can't

In an instant came our binding In an instant pasts were gone for sake of image Whether we who did the binding knew the need for such an image is up for grabs The first of our secrets The first of our stories and good music Learning to keep secrets wholly ours while keeping those of our friends I always knew you cared for us even when there were things to hide There is less and less to say, I know, but truly, I love you, so Merry Christmas

Heaven's martyrs dictate laws like lichen bottles Writing in the sunspots gets them smiling

Freedom was a bar pet before ambition killed all competition, like a toll, rings out