Casey G

I dream, thrashing in the will of torment,
For that stroke upon the flesh; kiss me with
Your sharpest edge, and it will become true.

Longing for the substance to propel, where
Might I find such a force bottled? Lead me
There, lest I leave a gash in its stead.

Flooding forth with the vitality of self,
Being messy and naked down to the vessel
Is still not enough; the feeling of something lost
Claws incessantly, burrows in the gut.

Beckoned by an impermeable nausea, all I ask is that you deliver
The blow to the abdomen. Make it count for
Something fond. A memory to flicker between
While I pour over the material value of my life.