Another Untitled Poem

The need to survive stretches the hourglass

Its limits, its pinched, cinched waist elongated

And familiar to the balancing act—

The play-pretend, the inward urge

To hex and wish the worst—

Another salted, slow burn…

For the culture, my heart and soul

As they beat, bleed, flow

Rinse, repeat—

For the lovers

Passion that lasts and lasts…

And charms,

Charms around the mind

And through the body just,

With the grins of zealous fingertips;

Savoring a taste so good it’s ethereal—

This shameless-flavored touch…

I wish you a desire that burns,

And burns and warms,

And holds, and burns, and haunts,

And heals and heals, and feels—

New-then-nostalgic, and scary-how-safe,

And safe, and pure

Safe, and secure, and safe,

Safe

Safe enough,

To build something absolute

With all this rage—