Anything that Moves

Strangers in the cold, maneuvering the night and its labyrinth of nostalgia traps,

the holy ground of memory,

I remember, I remember when everything was so

underwater,

I was somebody else’s ghost, crybaby angel of death, corner booth of the donut shop two

minutes past the clock tick of the witching hour, I’m feeling the heat,

Electricity jumps from neon sign to stainless steel countertop to the back of my throat and I

swallow premonition

after premonition,

until my hands tightrope walk over blacktop abyss of their own volition and the

floor,

just drops out,

I’m spiraling again / getting fucked up on the collapse trip /

I’m afraid to desperation / and I don’t have the drugs to sort it out /

I don’t know how to tell you what is wrong /  I can’t even explain it in my dreams.

and sleep hangs heavy like the shadow of the operating table / my caged faggot blood sings of

sparks and needles & / you’ve got the softest hands / I’ve ever held / but I’ve got this entire

lineage of disappearing and I know / I just know I have to run

I have to run & keep running & only my body remembers why