A collision of matter
created and never destroyed.
Universes interlaced within
the same sphere.
Holy in nature.
7 year tribulation of souls
7 years of finding truth —
Interlocked fingers;
carve yourself back into
me.

Understand there is no
god within this realm —

A constant creation
of all things.
A destroyer of
the divine.

The dogs above me
bark until I shut
them out. A metaphorical
strangulation of purity.
A weary progression
toward insanity.
Bukowski sits beside
me. Limp with the
dread of life
as I flip through his words.
I cannot find myself
because I am wearing my
lover’s socks and
praying to a god I know
does not listen.

my eyes
drag across
the world in
front of me.

from darkness
to light
I am tired
but awake.

a new life.
reborn from the
grasps of death.
slightly conscious.

around me
I see faces
— unfamiliar.

My body is yours, now.
Do not be afraid.
Trace my galaxies.
Explore my oceans.
Go deeper
into me
than any of the others.

I give this to you.
A sacrifice to the pure.
Hold me as I tremble under
your anticipated touch.

I see your gentleness trying
to fade. Let your demons flock
to me. I will feed all
of your addictions.

but only if you let me.

What is this thing people
search so endlessly for.
love is only temporary.
A stepping stone in the
essence of life.

Grow together and then
grow apart. 
Different stages introduce
different actors
all hoping for best performance.

my chaos has been calmed 

by the pulse of your world.

you trace my pain and show
me its okay to be afraid

as long as the fear creates
something beautiful.

Your touch fills the cracks
of my crumbling flesh,
you hold my soul at the tip
of your fingers —
love finds itself tracing
the dangers of my mind
with ease.

Can’t you see, dear? you are
becoming
my god.