writing this letter (ii)

my throat is the animal
in a soundproof room 

lunching on soft growls, 

quieting my cock down...

eats mostly at me, nips
at the water,

long oars between the place i think we were
  when i can't say
or why,
it's unkind to be unknown
even to myself
yet

 your scars 

cut through and i am left on the shore 

watching sails pink into the horizon.

my words resist me, why would i want to say

'i love you'? when it sits clear in my reflection 

as i catch your eye and hold you to a smile. 

i can't lift your skies above me

chase away the birds that you beg 

to follow you

it's either me or not wanting to, 

they graft the same hurt on 

bleed me, even tailing 

cars the one behind 

wishes blood beyond my carcass, 

one headlight peeking 

over the swish of rain

another pounding into 

shadow. 

it's pain 

on every shoulder, 

not just lumps of hurt 

but buckets

twisting mealworm 

in my gut, 

and i bite every apple 

till i find the one you are 

pipped in.

forever spitting seeds 

maybe you grow, 

maybe acid licks off my teeth 

gums bright noose

you in some deep
cavern.

i have
pictures of you
but my memories
stagger into throat
and you are the drunk
swallow
bash love into my body
till i am bruised,
bashed animal
your cruelty i created
made myself animal
just to justify the way
out of being
this
in love with you.

-
i guess it's osmotic 

one memory here and 

one other 

that guy- with the europe lisp 

of power, he flicked you 

with love and then he jerked 

off till you knew he didn't 

want you in his puddle anymore. 

then another wrong turn, i hear 

he wants you back for more

and three moons later 

you are on the next plane,

criss-crossing 

love me notes between the 

continents. 

fucking might be worth it, 

to dangle pretty 

and let him flute
your cunt with a blow-torch.

maybe you can grow the weather 

from your tears.

i don't want them falling on these 

pages though, 

nothing comes from letters

and i want to be the one to stain you

with my chivalry, or the other thing 

paving over flowers, 

praying gardens stay lush
under winter
through to spring thaw

would race to you
four-legged, frothed,
cock headed,
with ten thousand teeth on
a chain

that i pulled from the mouth of your ex
so you could weld
it to my spine

and hold me as your hurt,
you know,

so it never leaves.