They told me about you with naked iron sounds,
Told me with neon aches aered their small change,
Took coughing cigarettes and let drunken lips drown
Another heap of words in strained glass. So the strange,
Lightless muck mulling in my temple-tomb of veins
Stirred to their retching, stuck tongues loaded with brown
Blood into the crazy orifice of your name.
Those letters slump like ugly pelts pulled ever down
By barbed wire. Once, you emptied into all profound
Things and cast paper stars, and the licking disdain
Of the red cold was tethered to a closer ground,
And we were two in one second, sowing white grain.
And then I felt you put the slugs inside my brain.
And then I felt you tear the footprints off my bound
Feet, as you squirted your blind fragrances, more chains
Over my barren wrists. Your heartbeat is a hound
Gnawing with its maw-teeth at the sticks of my found
Fire. It is a raw root ripped from my rhyme’s plain
By the plough, and it spurts ruin – that all around
My god’s last will is lost, its bones falling as rain,
That the pincers of this new love exist to stain.
Sliding through intestines, the silent hope, unsound
And injured, will be flushed away. And all the vain,
Infantile, tightened world will watch as I expound:
They told me about you.