for DM

crooked cryptic codes

slip into elliptical slick discs

each weft, wove into a word

and a solemn solar hum.

awash in blue

it’s fluid, the sex, it’s fluid,

and it flows down the inside of my leg.

I’ve ruptured and come and opened

and kept nothing inside.

I realised, finally, that it’s absurd,

the keeping, the conserving…

of what?

secrets, a dark little space saved for myself

got sold to me, got cold and airy

i built it, i crush it,

and write a new chapter every night.

it’s a road descending, each ashen ending,

and i can fry, submerge.

“what are you holding back?”

it’s nothing, it’s nothing

so: part, fissure, purge.

crack, tumble, tear this.

it’s a soliliquy to blackness,

the unfamiliar changes

the unforgiving changes.

that ignore stasis, no heed.

that heap, the junk mountain

to be interfered with, de-structured

pull out a nook, another, a joint unstable

it’s time to witness

no order

no sense

just the absolute

and unknown

push, tug, lift and uncover

the layers and layers and layers.

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