éveillé

awake

this says we can't

be together.

it's yelling at us.

(and)

they follow suit

and say we can't

be together.

loudly.

but what have

we done?

other than 

beat our sweaty open

palms against

the other's bare skin

againstmeagainstyou

in hopes of 

finding ourselves,

coming to

our place

together.

pulling at and unwinding 

every last moral thread

in our clothes and bodies.

every bit of sensible 

marrow within our

wicked bones and 

sinew from our 

very legs. 

we were a couple

of regular

outlaws me and you.

and now i'm

losing sleep

(night after night

on end)

and 

you won't 

leave me be.

and now this is

all i write of

BECAUSEYOU

AREALLTHAT

ISONMY

MINDANDYOU

WILLNOT

GOAWAY.

i've tried. 

dear Lord, i've tried

over and over

and over and

over and over

again. 

i've tried to 

get rid of you,

the ghost of 

thanksgiving past

and me, 

the ghost of a 

kid who once 

used you to 

further his 

narcissism, his pride,

his lustful thoughts

and intentions. 

fortunately for all of us 

the Holy Ghost strung that

miscreant up

on a cold old west

morning and

his decomposing

body body 

still hangs from 

the lowest limb

of that thorny 

Godsend.

thelatterisgone

and

thatisbesidethepoint.

but you're still 

here haunting every abandoned

corner i slip away to

for alone time

or solitude or

intercession.

this says we can't

be together. 

it really does. 

here in the lines 

and spaces.

they agree. 

but fortunately

(for me)

this is a liar.

and they couldn't 

be more wrong.