Killing you is killing myself.

But you know I’m pretty tired of both of us.

Psychedelic invocations of Mata Hari at the station

I never saved anything for the swim back

I didn’t get your name stranger

Are you still jumping out of windows in expensive clothes?

You make me laugh but it’s not funny

Out of soft focus desire

From honeyed milk to funeral pyre

back here on the lawn his spirit continues to drool