Nobody is going [bad word] me
If I have to I [bad word] myself

I’ve spent too much time
Expended angelic energy
On my own disintegration to hand the contract over
To another now
As if it were
finished painting
Needing only a signature

You are not going to get to me
You are never going to be with me
As once was

There will always be the poem
I will climb on top of it [bad word] 
In and out of time [bad word] my head to the side slightly
As I finish shaking, melting then
Into its body, its soft skin

Is not a lie.  I’m glad you are at peace,
But every thing you know leads [bad word] 

It’s a neat trick
My body rising above the city
Watching the boroughs recede
Into blots of pumice and amber, amethyst

It’s a harder trick
Turning love that’s lost in betrayal into something
Beside bitterness into anything beside this rage