backdoor staircase

I feel none
  other than myself
my compassion
for me alone
  for my words



they exit my wounds
  and become life



all the drugs
I past present future to do
    can’t compare to the internal combustion
of my words



where are you
my past present future lover
in this equation



hiding behind the corner
    of a two hundred word piece?


    waiting for me to run out of ammo?


in a trench
  where I can’t reach you?



* * *

you are the abyss
    I may stare for days
contemplate
  assume the lack of response
a response in itself



analyze
live with my insanity





you are the abyss
  I deposit my careful words
into you



hand-picked

  I let them float to the bottom