at times there is a heaviness to your breathing that leaves me sitting with the last five months in my mouth. there is a wonder and a concern and a dissatisfaction that could never go away or could disappear in one year. there is a tropical rainforest awaiting exploration and dance steps that are yet untaken, but for now there is a seed. it is filled with something that i cannot see for i am too afraid to crack it open and look inside. peeking may result in a knowledge that is unfair to posses. but certainly, there cannot be a doubt, how i do love you. life can sometimes sit in a hammock, swaying in the breeze between two curved trunks that are marked with knife points and with the end of its own sharpened branches. at these times lovers names are scoured for infinite time into the supporting boles of eternity. a serene moment life enjoys at these points, and it smiles down at me, sucking on sugar cane and laughing at the unimportance of tooth rot. and then life is looming not in a hammock but it seems hanging from a thick gnarled rope. its face is blue and i cannot bear to look at the gore of its imminent death because in me it stirs a fear much too great for everyday ordinariness. but those are the dark moments and as quick as they are to overtake me, they are quick to leave me, blown away by your heavy breathing. I balanced all, brought all to mind, the years to come seemed waste of breath, a waste of breath the years behind, in balance with this life, this death.

i wish upon her the greatest emptiness. one that she finds inside herself, inside the crevice specific to every female. I hope she tries to fill it with men that will never satisfy her. i hope it leaves her more empty than when she started. she keeps shoving in and pushing, grinding with all her might, panting with the effort of throwing mass into the space, filling the void, yet i hope she is never able to. large, small, thin, thick, crooked, pointed, flat, and helpless they will be. some are impressive upon first glance, but they end up looking the same after, shriveled and sad and mostly as if they wear their failure in their gaping faces. i hope that the faces, still slick with human slime and grimacing with the pangs of their satisfaction, leave her revolted with herself. inwardly she will revile and lash out at others, but every atom in her will be going towards seeking out the next tool with which to throw dirt in the hole. and i hope the dirt is stained and empty, fruitless and bare, merely black particles lacking life and promise. though she may try to find more life in it, though she may seek out the fertile soil with which she was once filled, and though she may take it in her mouth and suck out the iron taste just to pretend it is the same nutrient rich substance as before, it will only crumble in her mouth and dry out her tongue. Cracked red lips, sore from tasting a dry, dusty, and impoverished mouthful will prevent her anger from spilling from her lips. it will only be able to build up inside her, rotting her organs and implanting seeds of doubt-the only things capable of growth in the dirt she eats. and i wish her revelation. i wish the weight of her burden to be unbearable, to leave her scarred in a way that changes her heart. i wish her the greatest void. and here you are, an implied side effect and a shape that is visible on her person as a gaping hole. You are torn from her skin but she gave you the blade with which to free yourself. and now that you have gone...