Portland.

Blown
Into me
Comfort me.
I want to be woven in
To every tendril
Of vein
Bone
And elbow.

That maleness
You bring...
Fucked
In the temptation
Of what is yours
Not to give.

So we do this
Again
Distanced.
You North, and
I
South.
Far enough to be
Plastic

As long arms
Pull me
Into
That heated,
Blood-filled
Heart.
Rumbled in baritone
Pump.

This fucking head
Continues
To fall nowhere
Against itself,
Against walls,
Against concrete pillows.
Slaughtering
Rest.

You, one among few
Do this
This prying open of
Wounds
This chewing of
Potential.
Reinvigorating
The raw.

And my hound guarded gates
Give way in thought,
In theory,
In distaste.
The brooding
Pessimist-
Awakened.