Nights Of Choosing.

A man, sometimes a woman,
Makes their way to my lips,
Moving them from within

By whisper, by pulsing voice,
By nothing, mindless bellows.
Your mouth hurts me, love,

In more ways than one.
Chances should never breed.
Their names make me renounce fate.

Your mouth bites without a bite,
His teeth smoke yellow,
Hers ghost white.

It hurts twenty times a day, everyday.
I look over the corners
And out the windows

For wide eyes and curious ears.
They whisper twenty times,
Moan twenty times, plenty I hurt.

They are why I lock
Two walls of doors before showering.
They abort all I buy

And carry, all I marry, all I birth.
They walk down black streets
With leather coat strangers,

Stumble upon dieing oxen
Spontaneously catching fire,
Boney patch by patch.

The little hairs smoking yellow,
Catch by catch.
Yellow like his thin, jagged teeth.

The leather coats air
Into the black like a shadow,
Black patch by patch.

These nightly trips,
These hourly leaves
To the happy fair keep me

From my troubled choosing.
My mouth is real and my talk not.
My body is real, my clothes not.

My heart is real, my desire not.
Who is this man I sense?
I know his yelling mouth,

The fat body holding his black heart.
His thought is real, his body not.
I already buried him and left him to rot.

Yet I sense him in you.
What is it that I want from you?
Every time she laughs

And every time he mumbles,
I think of you
When I use them to keep me from you.

Perhaps it is the laughing, mumbling kiss
That throws me from this to this.
I know that you know.

You move away
When I mouth you with kisses fake,
Confess to you with tones fake.

It kept me from losing
And now I sit here choosing:
Streets or rich? Act or quit?

Do you still panic when you choose,
The lonely large in your large mansion?
Is your panic body true?