dark-light

you can't understand the far road.
the underside of addiction to the farce
of fear, the canter
of never trusting your hand drawing
any fucking line,
of reading and redoing what is fine.

Growing and stuck, the born not alive,
the crust not saturated with the normal;
I hate the feeling of hating you.

I request the cool, straight relic;
it will power my rise, my tall body,
my curvature straightened to my wet
part,
my leak of being alone too long,
my breasts no more in the dark.
crush and make it hurt.

can a build be strong, be pleasant
and a 1000 years can I have it back?
can I be there and be reborn?

I don't want everything- just consumption
of feeling something that isn't me;
you there, bright dark-light blinds
and fills and
kills me.