You Are the Blood
push hands into portmouth, I've used these hands to first build a boat to catch you, and haul you far away on a salty swell of liquid. I've been through this, even lost sense of direction&touch. I still hear an echo. I remember the sound of skin split as you hit the pavement. We were both running to the cinema, engorged with love & hearts pumping extra, so you lost a lot more blood than normal. I have plucked the hands from a clock & swallowed them like a key. Tucked them away, replaced with sand timer from pocket. We have less. A hole hidden from ev'ry wandering eye. I peeled bedsheet from his knee and rested my lip on wounds. Whispered cat whiskers into his ear and cracked a smile as he held my pointing finger. Singing 'oh lord, the dangers of travel. Oh lord, the dangers of strings. the push and pull of human beings' The warmth of hands crematorium, turning fingers to dust. We speak in tongue, raspy lung, short breaths and clearing throats. I imagine you a wishing star, exploding from the corner of an eye. Shy. I imagine you as a bead of sweat on forehead as I wake. Weighted evening waited, early morning's scorn as she rips the sun from one hemisphere to the next. an eight apart eternity. Spread tidal & stateline. Spread electricity and eyes wide camera, eyes a wide-angle lens to catch the whole of him. Replaying a stumble every second, a trip over a foot. Teeth split cheek and tears wet and thick as oil. Every time, we become soil, rain, mud. Dirty. Spinning earth is punishment, but my fingers are boundless; scattered; syringes - prose 50ccs deep into the fucking hole of you.