If I'm to finally be found by my\nfellow man, let it be for something\nserious and [[false.|betray]]
The hasty validation and trumped up shame. \nThe brisk sentence.\n[[Nevertheless.|tank]]
That's [[mine.|mercy]]
on something I [[insist|misgivings]] upon.
I couldn't resist both.\nI tried to dignify you.\nMake your last response more of\nwhat one might want\nshould his corpse be found\nin a toilet.\nYou were heavy and you were dead\nbut you were [[malleable|imagine]] enough.\nI'm no expert, but you didn't \ndie long ago.
If there were nothing else,\nthere would be [[you.|Tiles]]
Your fingers are sharp\nas I [[fondle|connection]] your hand.
I'm not calling out for [[anyone.|knowing]]
The cool tiles that frame your sunken, unmoving body.\nThe harsh fluorescent from above\nhighlighting your [[form.|Intimacy]]
Mine running, yours [[still.|nails]]
No quailing or backing down\nfrom half-meant threats.\nA solid certainty in the eyes\nof others. A [[final|hope]] condemnation.
I'll just sit with you [[for a while.|sharp]]
Caved in, with some [[blunt|locked]] instrument.
Let it betray me.\nTo [[fall,|insist]] unforgiving,
Restroom Corpse
So different from the false hope\nof [[family.|undercut]]
Knowing soon,\nthey'll be [[calling|ask]] out for me.
The understanding words undercut\nby the eye's disappointment.\nThe shock of realization, the quick\n[[abandonment.|that one]] This is what I expect.
I could bring those pointed nails\nto my [[cheek.|bleed]]
lived with no other [[companion.|relief]]
This is your chance\nto speak for the dead.\nCrossed your [[arms|kinship]] on your lap.
I was still among them\nand in a better position\nto position [[you.|light]]
Just the wounding, and the\n[[welling up|still]] of blood.
Setting you up,\nI couldn't imagine what else\nI could do for you. \n[[Run,|future]] my body said
I don't know, I'll say,\nanswering the same question, but the one \nthey didn't ask.\n[[I don't know.|leaving]]
The door, locked behind me \nprovided me with [[confidence|resist]] and\n[[opportunity.|resist]]
I know you here, as no one else does.\nIntimacy beyond language,\nfor you are beyond [[language.|sit]]
Something not right with [[that|sentence]] one.
To run the worry out, bleed from\nme the anxiety of a [[life|companion]]
Just call it a mercy\nand be done with it.
Your head was [[tucked,|caved]] undignified\nbeneath the tank.
I'm washing my hands before I [[know|calling]]\nwhat I'm doing.
No matter what comes to light,\nthey'll have this final vision \nof you\nas perfect as I can make it\ngiven the circumstances.\nWhen they find me, I won't [[explain.|yours]]\nBut that's mine.
Though, even as I set myself up,\nI feel set up.\nDespite my misgivings, at least\nit feels final.\nThis [[stranger|threats]] has given me that.
And I'm leaving, but I'm leaving\n[[myself|false]] behind.
There is no demand for [[connection|blood]] there.
but the future corpse in my mind\nknew better.\n[[Stay,|chance]] it said.
The relief of it\ntrickles down my neck.\nI leave, feeling more pure,\nfrom the [[bathroom stall.|wash]]
ColorfulWar
I gave [[you|mine]] yours.
It was all about looks\nand what the [[living|position]] would remember.\nAs much kinship as we shared,