i have to breathe tonite

over beans my other word for guilt is spread

out, that old childish love now breaths honest.

but today, this week, not so.

i stopped breathing again, holding for wednesday

and sunday nites. monday morning's

quite comfortable.

i grasp at passion i hold it
but one word got in
and i grasp too much

over eggs love is honest

in hugs in deep portions of living space

i crashed with the a-z of my friends

and a little more here than there,

stuck on the letters that hum.

i grasp at passion i gnaw
but one word again
is hollowing out my breaths
...