i am drunk on the possibility of you
you who says you are not you
who will not allow me access to you
you, who are braver and braver than i
i chew on you like a lullaby

you are the embodiment of something else
which i am as i am
the embodiment of you, neither is you
though i sing again and again is you

this is not a love letter to you
but the probability of you already has left me
as sick as if it was it is you
who carries the energy of all the infinite yous
like stars and you and you like stars
would that you were inside me and i in you
would that you could suckle me and i could you
would that you were more than you
you could give me you for me is you.

what line between us is as blurred as we are when we are us?
what line between us could divide us from a time when we are not us?
where could a line live like a vein
or like a vein could a line live
when one day we lose our line and so string ourselves out like a line;
a washline or a timeline
or two parallel lines, apart.

when are we home to the same lines of music?
when are our thoughts the same?
this is not an infinite time, it is too short to waste.
we share a time, for a time
for a time we might draw the same fine line
what a time to waste!

what are you but a line around my heart?
wire-sharp because you cannot be
any thicker your substance is less.
substanceless, you squeeze and i respond
imagination is your line to me
to feed me an escape i will not need
we need not be what we are not
we are not separate but the same
interchangable, hosts that are inserted like tokens
small tokens, humanity bequeathes that we stay
and still the possibility of you is endless
you, who are not you, but me.

what can be left to us then,
until the moment when we might be blown apart
and fall on the earth like locusts
or cradle the infinitude of alone?
could we simply cradle this you and me and you
and pretend the same way that lovers do
that there is no voice, no need, no substance
no plaits of hair interwoven that are more beautiful?
there is no more sublime than this, i am sure
a letting of all the blood of all the world
the sacrifice of the sacrosanct
the momentary death of i.