Cover your eyelids with my bitter raptures.

Then let my raptures become your conventions.

Don’t ask for courage. Don’t shout for sympathy.

Don’t search. Don’t bother. Don’t smother.

Cover your ears with my vicious bliss.

Then let my bliss become a goodnight kiss.

All over the epidermis.

All through the glands.

All across the space.

Can you pretend, so I resurrect in your pretension?

Can you pray, so I revolve in your prayer?

Can you play, so I become your player?

Can we breathe onto each other’s necks?

I’ll take away your empathy

while you reenact my apathy.