experimental Valentine’s after Work Poem I Would Otherwise Name Saliva If It Didn’t Focus So Much on Bones and Longings and Other Such Homosexual Latitudes

If I lost eyes--and these intestines that are raucous and all bone hard-ass bone bone like limestones and sonnets and heavy heavy-ass bones that thwack bones that speak bones that sulk and saunter and see things when the tongue of the heart goes numb as a star, and does not talk does not talk. then perhaps. this one thing. no one sees in me) but you) you can see it) you) latitudes. only you) perhaps you) that one thing one beloved thing one and only one only thing inside me and from you one thing) goes far far farther than anyone ever perceived human see humans like me like you; latitudes. we believe in things no) know things) no one else can hold in those flimsy-ass palms or fucked-up elbows but I’ve got eye sockets now empty as fuck but virtuous and vast as universals truths and inklings all inklings what I’ve lined up for us) people like us) people who see things) people who can dig inside an eye like mine and see the real shit the shit no one else) sees) me like you) cause what I got in these tripas) in these lungs and longings is you (it holds) it hold;