space junk

[Split Eight]

Its overwhelming
to appreciate the ghosts of your past.
I feel you open up infinities (drinking Kölsch out the glass)
about your mother's death. or Greek Parenting
oceans of identity--(scoliosis eroding your back)
and this notion of synergy, that I cant quite respect.
You can't bare your soul and house a Hallmark heart
inside of your chest.. the sound of us, crossing arms,
finding that the Fall is done, and our own sides to our bed.
-- I want you to describe that instead.
'Falling' is a Radiolab- my satellite shrink,
who helped convince me true devotion is
a trap into which we would think,
at least I broadened my horizons til
I saw its pieces explode into salvagable things,
there's a fear in intimacy that endears you to shreds
ill never describe the sinking feeling when
i couldnt find your voice in my head