Perineum

somewhere near the perineum, a mass of vessels breathe into a knot; you whisper that the tip of my tongue is reaching a station we have never explored; we keep tugging our luggage between shadow borders, the flimsy reams of spit meshing together imagined colonies; finally, the algorithm vomits into seizure; your infinite outline reminds me of that priest convulsing; i come bearing gifts i plead to them, i come in peace.

we memorise the last afternoon; you delivering your special edicts on leaving; a dictator commanding his army of shaving blades; I don’t want your image to touch me; your eyes have become forest, whispering, like a labyrinth in season. your wrist points towards a catalogue of our dreams, now horridly imbalanced; our ledge without history.

you will leave; your feet will reach the window, the pendant dangling like a child gnawing at our threads; yet, i will stay; i will look around, horrified, as face after face will make an appearance, scheduled and colloquial; like a pickpocket, i will search for mercy within the crowd, almost stealing you in a rare, mystic lunge.
almost.