there is an echo
a beast like rhythm
search my schism
fill my hand with love
a voice in my head
a sickened sound
shakes make me kneel
a squirm is forming
in this mouth
shy is months doubting
avoiding a lip lengthened
tense this arm
sitting empty in this bed
a void convincing
a pillow sweating
saliva scarring
double the legs moving
aching hilt
a feast of other voices
show me future
primitives late
larger transformation
fill my mind with love
imperial light
a picking apart hide
a lost flagrance
the resonance stays
grey as this face

(C)2012 Christopher Vaughn


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