A soft eyed boy stares at me with such grotesque grandure
acceptance,
there is still nothingness
Centuries of boys wrapped up in him,
the stare of so many forgotten, regurgitated.
I see us as wolves running over the forest floor,
your letter falls from the wall abruptly.
Your face like milk flowing into mine,
glitter is the it, Dean Moriarity's it, my it,
the thick paste that invisibly covers the sensous tremors and murmurs
the paste suffocates
Mist mixes with the glitter,
beating the romance from your boyish face
winter on campus, winter forever,
following,
the ice age forever,
following throbbing dismembered wolves
on a tacky lino floor
in between sips the fake blood burns,
swallows more than he knows
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