Whenever I feel, hear,
or see a thing and recall you
I sort of hack, cough, and spit.
Then I shake my head violently so
it feels like my brain is knocking against
the inner walls of the skull. All this to avoid
weeping. I also wonder how it could have all
been in those days, back then--wonder how I
looked into those big brown bulbs and saw love
when there was something more akin to murder and
indifference much of the time. You've said it yourself.
There have been many demons crawling around me in my
sleep and I suddenly wish that you had been around to smell the
many layers of putrid rotting flesh in the night. A lot of the smell
is something like the pheremone-infested cloud in the depths between
your fat thighs after a long workout. I enjoyed the smell. It's not really there
in the nights, though. And the demons: They aren't real, so they are also not there.
They are as not-there as you are.