This hand in my throat is aged     it writes my head a script
& wrings my body of oil     you only know the spasms 
the warmth & chill    the melody & moans    the fast & binge
the nights you sleep & I sift horrors from the darkness
you like to interpret everything as hunger, & with this one as aged as time
i am behind you on the restaurant’s rolling stair 
as a clapper                                  oscillating                                               in extremes
the vain chime trapped in the walls of the bell like an internal bleeding
i have been here     the woman munching sausage at the edge has straws in her hands
the semicolon marked on her skin is an unread billboard, a breached warning,
so I don’t fuss about symbols   the girl teasing her father does not know the self-carpaccio botched on his wrists    the waiter inspirits the knife with the desire of his gut
In the showcase an indigestible memory rattles the amitriptyline i swallowed at your back
see the hot-dogs    my wires that conducted love & lost their insulation to the voltage
see the steak          my chunks from the grill of guilt 
the bread in the oven  is the gasoline’s aroma before it failed to quench
sorry i have been the favorite menu you don’t know its dishes
i am bile   i am a shad   i am an abyss   i am a free radical & my mind is a harlot
i am God’s lost sheep in a family lost things remain lost 
you see, before you found the vehicle,
i veneered it to careen down this slope without you 
when you said therapy i climbed a ladder of wet rails and slippery rung
& thudded down the feet at each step up
now i am an open ear & you speak my salvation in your idiolect
should i clutch onto you like the heavens onto the sun in a sun shower?
i want the miracle of a vehicle that stops depressing the clutch
i want to be the stem’s uprightness in the teeth of its canker
see, my arm is slender & my muscles are strained   the shot to be thrown is 16lbs
help me spin in this tight circle
help me wham the weight into the wall without crashing with it