Genesis:

This one at last,
Bone of my bones,
Flesh of my flesh-
i have already taken the bite:
and Unto the woman he said, I will greatly multiply thy sorrow.

untitled

i confer too much to the echos of my chest cavity-
we dilberate and I say
youre screwing me around,
my voice aint the same.

you speak to me in forms of pressure
a giant lump of mass
taking place of arteries and air and breath
my lungs-
about to collapse.

you rot away in containment.
you settle under concave bones and turbulance and you are screaming and laughing and maniacal in undertones of sobs and wails and

space

and you know no one cares to care
and your hands are only flesh
even touching makes way to a poem.