I loathe
the thought of us
sharing the sanctity of this room
so, I summoned skunks
to breed babies on my bed.

I beg for sanity,
maintain a holy distance
and keep what we truly are,
two heads exploring space
between here and there.

sadly, I measure
a meaningless, verbless life
from past to lacquered tomorrow,
where the dark blessings of love
aren't just metaphorical.

my thoughts circular and crooked
for I prefer to see mud.