Punches to Self.

No I cannot reveal tonight
my stings.

You will not know of my sigh, the pinch in my cheek.
Or the man in my latent dreams.

Shit.
Stars were carved out of my throat.
Pulled out, spinning mercury in the kitchen.

No you will not reveal
your hands to me.
Because their misery makes me sad.

My eyes cannot burn for you,
Toska.
t
t
t
t
t
osk
a
who was sold at the meat market.

I've always put the finger on my lips.
Have I not?
I can become
moist
for you
even
all hot breath and cotton panties
7 year-old innocence in my palms
and Toska written on my navel.

I had barley in my hair
when the ground grew dreams
We rode together, remember?
On afternoons that reminded us too
much of fate.

Oi,
She says she'd jump for you into hot milk.

I on the other hand, speak to wolves.
and we
we and
and we
we and
we silently scan the miles.

I've cried with proper punctuations even,
in the bathrooms of my life.

No
You cannot know me,
I was born much before language itself,
mute and deaf to planet roars.

Oi,
I have one regret
though.

I never told you
that your chest
reminded of safe places.

She can't jump into safe places,
can she?