boy.

boy:
i saw you in love,
saw you in war and discontent
your love is a benign tumor,
(i cannot take the malignancy that once was)
leer me a painter in the alleys of your heart,
i imagined you saw me there
marking each vessel with my name,
each artery with initial date
of our communications,
hours, moments,
centered around the strengths of the universe,
planetary illusions
and the stars
colliding and bursting
in time with our pulse
no,
i've stopped believing
in all things fated
nothing is written in the stars
but death and the eventual collapse of things
holy
things sacred, no i never thought us sacred
just measured and found you
fitting because your every word inspired me to
laughter and the glint of your
eyes made me wish for kingdoms
universes
and galaxies of wandering plains
and depthless oceans
that we may explore
(immortality)
playgrounds with
rusted iron fences and
worn in swing sets,
towers of twisting metal to climb
mattresses to fall upon
and on such devour lust
with the movement of hips,
hands,
lips, across
fluid surfaces
of pale ivory skin
against the grain of procreation,
in the face of catastrophe,
in the eyes of an aimless god,
crucifix affixed on my neck,
i never wanted to see you go,
conniving to keep you
teach you,
show you the ways of
memorizing sexual deviancies
and
pleasurable sensations.
i couldn't care less.
i couldn't care more.
i could care,
but it hurts
a bit too much,
to think of ends,
beginnings,
scars across the transistors of the mind,
powerlines scraping down my cheeks
in tandem with the beating of my frantic heart,
clenching fists,
heavy, irrevocable breathing,
reaching through a mire,
a swamp of tertiary mammals
and collapsing synapses,
don't crawl back to me,
leaving me with words of defeatism,
and prowess,
seductions and falling nations;
i will crush your fucking hands underfoot.