afflictionado

  simone curls up
with a cross made of car
parts, an accordian soft
in her ear. she needs
 a lot of distance
twixt god and the dance
deep within.

sometimes i feel like
a flat pack casing glued
to the motherboard, camera
going off every few seconds
to record the solder's heat.

it's not so much the new dogshit pile
or the way  bedtime battles ease
into violent tendencies.
it's the nearness of the couch to my

sanctuary, the way it feels like permanance
is immanent, the incense of grease and grime
over the rosary . god,with these  the details
i see you clear as a lesion.