H A S T E N E R

U are the Hook
and I am the Eye
a Hurricane of cylance
sinilisten
to the precious
pressure
in its gauge
needle aiming
like a black chipped
nail
slim hand
on the cock
of delicious deliverance
a mouth of steam
rush
flush fluid exhalations
like wicked prayers
in a brimstone bag
wound to bound
meaning
like ballast
in a helium night
of moon and jagged stars
the break in cars

play cd speakers blown
our bodies crashing
like wrecks knowing
the dark shaded lamps
and television mysterious
eyes wet wild
and delirious
..