By you.

Breathing,
Oh dank hang the words so strongly felt,
Another pause followed by voluptuous guilt.
Skin scrapes skin,
Oh no a second more.
I fear above all, that this night should suddenly lighten,
That I cannot see a star in the sky,
Fading red clouds lay motionless at head,
People seem not to take another step.
Our still, our nothingness,
Two of the dead slip past.
Just stay, no other words,
Not a drip of water runs beneath this bridge.

No sound passes by,
Just silent padded paws.
Oh a bike, Oh a car,
Can I not simply have them both?!
With eyes that understand as such,
I tear another nail toward the bed,
And linger there, in bedless, sleepless lay,
Had Tchaikovsky begun to play?

Rest does not play to eyes that have no seen their fill,
Like filling a bowl of flour with the butter,
The sweetest twist,
The warm rise,
Oh it is I who ache to take deep breaths,
I who spy alien ginger cat upon my garden, fresh cut.
I who seek to close the blinds before the light reveals my eyes!
Give in to none!
I cry and pull at my own cracking spine,
But my cage, it does lurch forward,
My neck does turn, my teeth do slither.
Oh throwing a television into the back of a van must be easier!
The shatter upon the tarmac below, was not I!
For i turned here with you, i pulled here and I have nothing left!
Am i alien now to the feeling emitting my own skin?!
A child first attempting to write,
The baby's cry leaking into the night,
Pulling paint down wood for the first time,
Kneading dough into ball for the fifth!

And where, upon corner of each eye,
Do my illusions come end!?
In night gown that have seen death,
In gloves so slim to fit?!
Have you seen the delicate slim of silver,
Protruding from the china sugar bowl?
The scent of pastry baking,
The slightly-to-the-right tie of the bow on apron?


And then I lay back down, all in one lurch i pulled from you,
Each image a blur through my minds eye,
And seconds brought it you!
And the image upon corner of eye became true!
And you awoke me by forehead, by cradle!