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