springs from our lacks
so, your madness kicked out a good man

for you abstained from light
and he rushes for the candle
the other half of shadow is the manifest

and the rituals remain,
for rituals are only
inspired by their absence

for the zero has
no sharpness,
as death

the deceptive hymen
of beginning and end

drool into my mouth
when i am underneath
i imagine i am buried and well

notice how i take it,
like nectar, i imagine
your verbs come slow
through a slender needle

you shade me in your image
so that i may see the cast

when i am dark and small
and yours, i am happy


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