what you saw, and I wanted elsewhere, to be elsewhere, or another thing entirely
and I took it entirely, too far and down–
you’d think it would haunt me, but it never really bothered me
–and so, and this, and it’s where you think you should be.
now spit that back, and how does it look to you?
what grey, I think, you may have seen in mornings on your single-paned windows
I held you together with tape, I think
I never slept the night for smell or space, you crashing every time
insufferably, you shoved and shunted
I, and who would think I could take what I did, the way it took me, very little it took me in the
way that you would have liked to think you were taking me.
I made the bed as if nothing happened, ever.
the difference in glass or fabrics between, what was soft on the mouth or face at any time, hold
still and the glass, I’ll take you, okay, take this and I’ll take you, like so, I arrange and so you
take the shape in my brain of what
and I, what I saw, your imagination as I saw formless, mimicry of the least, the form you laboured and felt, theoretically, knew the touch and figures of, could not carry swiftly but knew
the stumbling features
I can’t and did not want to, what you built or knew, whatsoever called
take this, take me, take it off my hands what of him, in any way, of he I saw, what he saw