Meshing

A Poem

I sigh in a spiral, working circles around myself, blinding shadows while I whittle away at what’s left of the light

your grammar is all archaic and I can’t understand the words you’re writing

I want to die with the image of your words half in my ear, half out of it — I want to become the symbol of the religion of you

Dirty realism, grunge lit, creative confessions, spec fic, and assorted literary atrocities.