to the bones: a poem

ps: this is also an acrostic.


to the bones

In the heat of my frozen night, your
warm body melts my disdainful
icicle limbs, covers my sinew
lovingly as the soul and calcium
leak from my brittle skeleton. You are

leaving me, flying on sex and adrenaline like
opiates, my dissociation invisible,
visible, like my flesh, my
emancipation from limbs and life. I
yawn, lie still, as our mouths form misshapen
ovoids, as I mutter
under your primitive erratic breaths.

This is what it means to be young:
outerly sexual, involved, but in our minds
the thoughts race, clipped and begging escape.
Hedonism will only take us so far.
Everything has a beginning, an end; my
bones are my statement, printed
on my mind and matter -- an expression of
nihilism: my wordless vowels, screaming frigidity.
Excluded from insomnia, you warm us, you
sleep; my steam exudes from your lips.