The morning after the lifetime before. A beer piss that drags for hours leaving me weak at the knees and then the imaginary taste of your breast and I open my mouth like a baby bird in the nest but all I get is dead air and the rattle and hum of a boiler on the verge of mechanical death. Peeling back my foreskin, I shake my head at how human I am and then picture your eyes and how they would so often look at me half in adoration, half out of mistrust. Intimacy. Sex. Bodies as bombs as gods as knives. The in and out. Your gasps and tears and my shifting between the layers like a creep and a junky and a ghost in love with the scent of life with one eye on the grave. The day escapes me and it’s barely even begun, and yet I’m never around long enough to notice. I exist in all places. I travel with you through time far from the arms of those who can’t see things any other way. The world is worthless. This pain is worthless, but with you, the pieces fit and the picture it paints leaves me breathless. Hours pass but don’t touch me. Clouds and shadows shift yet my physical self is as empty as an atom. My hopes and fears, they carry on the wings of birds. My love, it knows no cage. It knows nothing other than the love it seeks and the love it seeks is beyond the flesh, which is why I’m so far away. This body of mine, it serves a purpose, and it seeks out sin, but it’s what’s within. It’s what can’t be seen. Without form. Without words. Open your window and fly with me. Spin around the sun and dive through time. This thing they call a living is just a hangover that never shifts, so come around and let’s shift someplace else.