For I need the form of you against the shadows for the soothing of my simple heart I need the shape of you against the pillow for the stilling of my simple mind I want the smell of you against the shadows for the easing of my simple world I want the love of you against the dying for the soothing of my simple heart I need the fire of you against the failure for the trying of my simple mind I need the roots of you against the torrents for the shaping of the simple stream I want the shapes of you against the losses for the healing of the simple world I want the soul of you against the crying for the breaking of my stubborn heart my heart my heart my heart my heart.
Against dying the self for living the sea against aging the roots for shaping the seed. For the scrounging against the darkness the crashing against the rocks for the coming against the going the knowing against the losing for the healing against the wounding the shaping against the killing -- for godsake I need you, I need you, the need the need the need the need.
For I think of you in your apartment in Queens at your laptop and I think the aging of limbs for nothing the dwindling of parts for nothing the stilling of breath for nothing the knowing of nought for nothing the spreading of light for nothing the naming of names for nothing the parting of parts for nothing the soothing of names for nothing the laughter of pals for nothing the parting of lips for nothing the dancing of forms for nothing for nothing for nothing for nothing?
No. Against the limitations of being the grasp for love against the imitations of trying the reach for love against the deprivations of living the toll for love against the alterations of ego the songs for love the call for love the drive for love the wait for love the work for love for you for you for you for you.
For against the darkness in this apartment of ordinary miracles I hold you tightly dreaming about death, and death comes like the feeling after failing a test, riding on a bus across Death Valley with a self-absorbed, half-demented driver, no other passengers, nearly all the lights off, hum of the motor, heading into the murk, the dread of destination and the excitement wrapping everything up, like the words I want you want you want you want you want.