2: “trust issues”
30 days/poetry
keep small and heated, swole heart, bursted to death at the wrong points — wrung out, steppe fire / smart against his face, in the wrong ways
all the men I take are conversions / thin attempts at creating an audience, they ask over imaginary-breakfast, and you must be
in favor of the world ending, just so — last fire, dried out, the winds come up too steep. he takes and wears despair so casually,
tell him: nothing has changed, you know nothing what I think! thing who lives in my head how could you know me /
he goes into smoke with the rest, at peace in the graves of many war-horses. heart stay rent and ready for the next, someone will come
someone will find and eat me, take away pulsing need need need to be seen, and my beliefs — delicate, personalized — are silent
at last in their girl-tomb, no more conversions drifting in, taking up ghoulish shelter and crouched, watching, the hypocrisy of peace
the last pavilion 