feel my fever--it kills. god is like that;
an ever-burning unknowledge,
the fever is sticky. i cannot want more
than tomorrow
or less than comprehension of nothing.
if only;
for the last time i saw you
you had lost 30 pounds and were
inhuman. a mad fire burned in
your skull and i--i was repulsed by
your sick and starved longing--hidden.
i know what goes on in that
diseased brain
i tried long ago to share it but you
were embarassed and cruel. so i
said die and then the universe crumpled without you in it.

forget about insanity--when you get your
future it will be made of clay. i will watch
but fearful will not guide your hands or
even gentle offer. it is not hate but your
misshapen scorn--and god
must have mercy in the everywhere of it all

for you.

03/17/2003

Posted on 03/18/2003
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