1. i step further into (him)
the place, and he just lies
there. protrusion from his
bedframe pulls at my
inattention. building is my
desire. lust. wantonness
found somewhere between his
thighs and mine, amongst
perspiration of actions
left unsaid.
2. one more movement through (him)
a doorway, the hardwood cracks
with age beneath my
soles, and i smile under
the pink of my
covetous. avarice. voracity
impels a soft cradle, coddled
embrace, between intertwining parts,
digging firm homes, trenches
for trespass when needed.
3. i move around inside of (him)
the one room inhabited, with
blank walls full
of the rings of agemarks,
making us an architectural
manifestation with visible
vanity. pride. dignified,
we depart the confines of one
room. space does not define
or dictate our duty.
4. i cease in my endeavor to (him)
take stock in our
brevity in the cacophony of our
selves. abstaining from
advancement and holding our
intertia. sloth. idly,
we sit alone in our
room with the lack of loco
motion due to the lethargy
of being us.
5. i consume the residue left in (him)
the space we made
home. my hunger
for a traversion of those rivlets
in walls built by us is
insatiable. gluttonous. rapacious-
ly, i indulge in the bumps
and bruises of our building
until i can no longer fill
myself with its contents.
6. i step out of (him)
the structure of the entity
(of us) and gnarl my eyes
at the product of our
acquiescence. growing
angry. wrathful. contempt
seizes what once was my
place alone, with my deco-
ration, remodeled
now in tandem.
7. sliding into and back out of (him)
the foundation paved in exposure,
muddled in apprehension, i
look through to the old age-
marks of before. inducing
jealousy. envy. resentment
flows through the emanating
circles from once concentric
puddles, now lost in a pool,
sharing waves. walls, and centers.
01.30.02