George crawled into his hole,
Wet with blood,
Smiling.
The reflected zero
Glared from the walls,
Biting.
The color was orange.
Explosive.
It was indifferent, digesting.
Hair held no meaning.
The knife cut deeper,
Indexing my toothbones.
The months acquired razors.
Forgetting his name.
Thrust up and threatened,
The cold concrete chipped to his teeth,
His tongue
Thick with syllables, confessing,
Confessing, retracting.
Longing for a phone call.
I can wake but this is real.

She sang in the rain, contriving galactic anatomies,
Injecting her fur coat with ultraviolet bees.
Desirable, desired, desiring.

The geometry of alcohol.
The fluidity of shadows.
The stars are preaching without tongues.
An everywhere of roses
Seeking her snapdragon.