safe words, every little Sound in the night is a gasp

Listless blight, safe words, every little
Sound in the night is a gasp--bone tip

Blossoming through skin. It's no
Bull, man. Anymore, we're all winners

& afraid to pull these faces off.
Maple leaves & plastic bags somersault

Through the park. One cloud
Grips the moon. Call me anything

Before morning comes, little lover,
Because it's true & doesn't fucking matter.

Kill the lights. Feel the burn. Rev yourself
Up & sing along with the good thrum

Found in everything. Hang around
Until the end. Melt my ashes on your tongue.

[Alex Lemon {1978- } 'Being Here', from Fancy Beasts]