dark matter

it’s silence.

it’s blood rushing through veins.

with nowhere to rush to.

even your blood losing purpose.

all dressed up with nowhere to go.

you no longer warm to the touch

your nether regions

lighting up with something else

besides the entanglement of limbs

but the entanglement of opposite impulses firing

it’s the sound of crackling in your brain

as neural pathways are dismantled by cruel construction workers with signs saying things like,

road closed seasonally.

except this is not just the winter of your discontent

this road is fucking closed, lady.

there are whole graveyards in parts of your brain

where neural pathways have ceased to go anywhere

dead ends.

there is energy in your skin.

the touch and warmth of your beloved

simmering under the surface.

matter cannot be created or destroyed

and your matter is still bouncing around inside of me

begging for relief

so i direct it somewhere

i put it into my notebook

or the openings of another’s body

all the while

gently whispering,

please come back to me.

i have all of you inside and

i am alone.