You have what I want.
It is not a simple matter of giving
or these pages would be blank
and I, better slept.

I sought a substitute in drugs and drink
and the intoxication was a feeble parody
and the blue-vein crazy-eyed addiction;
a scornful mimicry.

I made myself strong
but the acid-bourne ache was dull
and the pounding in my ears screamed
your name

I began the dismantling and the loss
of everything left the only thing
I couldn't throw out, and you smiled

I wept on the Church porch and the door
was opened wide and I took the one treasure
that they had to offer
and still I hungered.

03/10/2008

Posted on 03/10/2011
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