Scents under my skin
my pared pear
shapes under my nostrils
down my long cool gullet
rests deep and full
that longing
this empty burn feeds upon me
forces my hand to life

not quite balancing the
ins and outs
I do dream
Brave laws
the world we're in
a menace
Struck a deal with heresies
the hands I did not take
neither to comfort
nor console
words spent
drunk on
charismatic tongues
with more time than I 
can handle 
but no sorrow
to spare