two questions.

How do you measure my intentions?
My prudish words
The arc of botched inventions.
Vessels traverse the miles,
Expand dimensions.
How do you measure my intentions?

Our intimate positions
deliberate brigade,
substantial flickering, then
The morning hour fade,
Beyond the scope of towers,
encompassing man-made.
Our intimate positions
deliberate brigade.

If I am amiss,
I stand to be corrected.
Your fingertip pulsations,
The venom they injected.
The hands and hearts
Of others,
Discarded and dissected.
If I am amiss,
I stand to be corrected.

Do you stack my hunger up beside your bed?
Like magazines,
with all the words she’s said.
To keep, to keep, to keep,
But mine’s to shred.
Do you stack my hunger up beside your bed?