i'd like to talk about love
but my neck hurts
and so my head compounds without sublimity
and unprofound

but as i had liked to so i will
continue to until i truly ground

without imagery
a lens encapsulating detriment
but of love

there are insects enough to night the noise
of it lights enough to circumnavigate
a false measure

so as not to remake mistake
but of love

my medulla contorts the cerebellum
drifts and i die
into a dream