cave
that i am only limestone
to the cavern of your heart,
material to its system of
bewilderments, crevices, creeps, slopes
and screes, squeezes, false hopes, dead ends,
crawlspaces for gotten
lost men, and am eaten away
a little more each year, faults stress
fractured, bored, dropped, feelings worn
raw to bone caveblind
and bat about, locating
only echoes of my own
stabbing in the black
with every buried shaft twisting in
the back, blooding calcite
on your racks of slavering
stakes, worming in pit piles full
of shit, consumed
in the hollow of it; so i shall be
the rot in your gut,
caving to seal your trap shut.
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