we are such sad dances, such spastic
prancers; plastic buffoons, abusing each other bodily,
boldly beating one another senseless
glancing blows, brutalizing robots
hot with immature selfness; who knows, we beat
or selves bloody, with the empty-pain bulging
up your throat, disgorging gross bile of self
reproach, we puke our decisionless lives
into each other's throats, divulging, in putrid kisses,
our fears and needs; defiling life, really, as it has defiled us.
II
out-of-time, clutching at the clothing of our personalities,
grinding the bodies together; if nothing else
minding each other's store, freed, perhaps, to leave the door unlocked;
we are swept down and through space; our faces drawn tight
with the flight through light-years and wasted nightmares;
we fight the needs and fears, with each other
and we smother
our love.
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