It is my space that evokes you
Smothering the insistence inevitable instinct
I saw you wake up from our dead
they got tired of holding their souls in high
grieving perhaps the last wish of a moment

It is my space that evokes you
from deep stillness where your body breathes
purple color in any corner
in your coffin jump feeling inside you
the beating of your wound delicious, and so
lick every last drop cold and rusty metallic taste

It is my space that evokes you
Given your passion is kept cold and desolate
missing your virtue was lost in the fog
as machinery thirsty and oxidized
irretrievable memories of your hips
disturbing my one obsession, to strike

It is my space that evokes you
challenging your footsteps lost in the fog
choking sand and dying of thirst
still waiting on your looks, the sharp end
until midnight, in the twilight of silence

It is my space that evokes you
prostrated at the corner biased
I hope to watch for any movement
preparing retaliatory blow
of phlegm hate that corrodes and feeds

It is my space that evokes your soul wandering hungry for awareness and forgiveness
Since then I hear you sigh
to the warm fluid and red
caressing and stabs to the last breath
muted any attempt at your throat
Lost in your eyes sinking

It is my space that evokes desperate
the stabs you silent your evenings leaden
which you raised in the air and disrespects you
and ultimately took over the depth of your fucking obsessions
and discharged relentless about your sordid and absurd desire to escape
each poem damning the slippery flavored lip
and looks at you sideways trying to spit the anathema
prim and ground, washed in sweat yesterday
to the plaintive weeping shadow leaves you
with the utter impossibility of redemption

and complies waiting, waiting for a maybe ...