Clearance

 

Clearance

 

Could I bother you for another?

Another slash?

Another gash?

A new wound to draw from?

Can you smile more this time?

It makes the tears roll slower.

While you're at it,

would it hurt for you

to maybe hunch over

and maybe come over

and save me a sore to pick over?

The cold tip of this prod

I delight in hovering over you

is not meant to goad you.

Not a means of agitation

nor of provocation

or manipulation.

I have a rather detailed

fixation

on your dire straits.

I desire those traits that trace

the delectably obscene,

deliciously unspeakable

despair that fills my dreams

and my hands to overflowing.

Without the advantage of knowing,

you've been stabbing,

punching,

throwing that dripping heart around

SO DON'T YOU DARE PUT IT AWAY NOW.

Squeeze it for me.

Wring it out.

Kiss it for me.

Wear it out.

Give it to me.

Look into my eyes when you pull it out.

Shout my name.

Chase after me

for fearful doubt

that I might change my mind.

Run behind.

Catch up.

Now fess up:

What does this bleeding thing mean

to you?

What does it really?

Do your best to convince me.

Enlighten me.

Excite me.

Entice me.

Sell me on such a possession of high importance.

Labor through your

Raggedly desperate appeal to me

until you eventually ask yourself:

Why even offer it to me?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Devin Joseph Metz

12.24.20