Monkish hostility leaves the office to 1/2
-center on taking off for pinier points, points to please death, love,
                   desperate even dying.
You left me at random past care.

This dawns on me once
before blasted onward, discourse & chaos go hand in hand, as psychic as we are
— having seen it, married it earlier

& I don’t mind if I look worn or beaten up. I’m wearing

My love as a fever costume, stretched black poplin, black as hell in a trance.

& here gear management inserts a bonus to exchange and not so bad — 
a physical act of fondness that can only end in a draw.