puncture — things longer than a paragraph
still need be said.

tremble with terrible flames.

my knuckles are hard white. my hands pulse, a dying heart with dirty fingernails. clasp. open. clasp. open. it doesn’t help. it can’t.

there is no language thought to hold you. no words to lull you or call you or deliver you. i twitch. close my eyes. pull air so deep so long pink lungs grow orange and alight. fat tired eyes ease, release. hand, again, clasps. opens. white and red dappled flesh and pocked hand wrapping a promise of protection. it crushes what it cannot protect. i hold my breath. pray i am not crushed. am not lost. am not too far gone. think empty. wish the lock could unlock itself. wish something, anything, went how it ought to.

we ride fat black tires. hard and fast. we look each other in the eye and promise till its dark. promise to stop for no one. nothings going to make us stop for no one. measured beats mark each mile. i hear the wailing and it finds my deepest reddest heart. i bounce in my seat, alone, like a child unbuckled on a tilt-a-whirl. hard edges and blinding lights. gold and green and red and blue, september flys by. it runs from me while i watch you breathe. it hurts to ride this hard. parts unhealed throb, threaten. i try to hold on. i can’t ever just hold on.

i put my hand to your throat. words fall out of my mouth. i watch. they blossom on your breasts like aborted thoughts, broken vows. i throw myself into you. against you. i throw myself into the light. i put my hand to the dark. i muffle the sound of my need. open. clasp. a pulse runs through my back and legs. my eyes are open, when did they open?

a flock of silver white birds circle a thousand feet overhead. all a glitter and swirl, wings lost to the burning sun. sliver specks twisting hurtling. i am falling. twirling. losing. they become a raging heartbeat throbbing in my eyes and i can’t hold on. i can’t hold. i put my hand to your throat. open. clasp. i find your lips in the dark. we pray we are not crushed. we pray we are not lost.

my eyes open. it’s not you my lips press into. not you breathing hard on my chest. my hand has not found your throat, your heart.

i am alone.
a dying heart with dirty fingernails.