because life does not exist beyond your borders—
because there is beauty and honor and faith in every lifestyle
not just the one in which you are comfortable—
because lack can inspire higher heights than wealth—
because the sliced bread atmosphere
of enough to waste and always the same, the same,
does not breed the art i am seeking,
omits the will and strength and awareness i desire—
the image i seek is one unended sentence,
a fragment reeling into completion
aided by heat and the smell of your post-coital skin—
because dim rooms are a bit brighter when
there is something (the slope of a quiet body) to be seen—
because dark rooms are a bit emptier
when the twin thrust of love surrenders to lack—
and all this being said i can't deny the space
where your body should be,
the sentences your mouth should finish for me.