Lump on my testicle. Drove me mad. Damaged brain, split me straight down the middle. The skull watching on the step, a reminder of what I am beneath. Young girl smoking a cigarette with fingers so slender. Teeth white slabs. Eyes shy and cute. Searching thoughts in the curve of her wrist. There’s something tender in the way she blows out the smoke. So gentle. So true. Those delicate lips, speaking shapes that glow before my eyes. I imagine taking her. Pushing her against a wall and linking my fingers with hers; I’ll devour young flesh, for youth is what I feed upon. Those lonely evenings spent apart. Things falling to pieces. Fragments of hope and love left scattered and adrift. The warm bed. The place where we made love; passion now reduced to strangeness. Everything missing. Everything lost. Sacred truths, gone. Too many regrets. Too many ghosts. Laying there smoking and convalescing, coconut oil drifts to me in the breeze. A trail to her heart. A link to the past. Rolling cigarettes, she comes to me through the pouring rain. In the darkness of winter, she waits for me beneath the bridge again. Kissing like lovers, nothing else exists. But now I’m defected. Deranged. There’s no going back. No going back at all. Eyes like a fox. Blood trickling from my nose. With bare feet upon the asphalt, her hair billows as does her dress. Mountains. Clouds. Violators. Shaded. Celled. Taken. On nails, a man must reclaim himself. He must stand up, and know what he is. Licked, sucked, and drowned. A billion yellows, drifting from her legs. Washed in the waters of her mother’s womb, they sing to me of something quite special. Infinity lands, bubbling like new universes. Wind and rain, pouring with regret. Oh, that fucking regret. Spoken of in hushed breath, its meaning removed. The beauty of failure. The wonders of tragedy. The blinding lights of a collapsing mind. Shooting bullets and secrets, from her sex to mine as the city turns on a sixpence. Use my words for lubricant. Let them do things you’d rather no say.