Clever trick

Two hearts

Stitched together

Not by threads, but by

Clots, angry

Fiery clots

Inhale: one beat, shared

Exhale: another, and you can

Feel me

There

Screaming, dying

These clots are aching

Singing

They are what makes life

They are life

They’re golden and violet

Pink and deep red

Every color in the spectrum—

Even those not seen by our eyes

Our human eyes

They are the color in the gleam

Of my taillights

As I leave

They are the color of your headlights

As you find me

Lost in asphyxia

Lost in the green gleam

These clots are the solemn,

Gloomy beats of a bass drum

The frustrated

TAT TAT TAT

Of the snare

The exhilarated, keen

Rush of each cymbal

 The quick tapping of my fingers

On a bar

 In the heart of this dark city

Waiting for you

Connected

Close your eyes—

Your dream came true

Two hearts bound by

These rotting, ugly

Clots

Acknowledged merely

Simply

By time and space

Close your eyes

Feel my rhythm

Set your palm to your chest

And make that dark realization

That your rhythm

And my rhythm

Are no different

Calm, steady, unfearing

Bright white life

Pumped into our bodies simultaneously

The broken dream

That you dared to dream

Is now my broken

Reality.

Yet the inspiration

That you milked into me

Has now been recorded

And lives on in a poem

This poem of absence

Beautiful absence.