I want to fold myself into you cell by cell by tiny cell. I want to feel every sinew of you shift and spread apart to make room for me. I want to slide into the spaces that exist inside you … even the ones you thought were already occupied. The spaces dark and deep. The spaces warm and wet. The spaces shaped like question marks. My lungs have stopped working. I’m so fucking tired. Breathe just a tiny bit deeper. Loan me some of that coffee-drenched, three in the morning, one brutal round this side of frustration oxygen you like to hoard. I want to feel your snarly bits soften. I want to look at the page, look at that milky smoke haze, look at those beautifully scarred hands furiously moving then still furiously moving then still furiously moving then still from behind those lethally blue eyes of yours. What does the world look like from there. I won’t stay long. I’m just so fucking tired. Shut up. Move over already. Don’t move. Turn the music up. I don’t fucking care what. Just turn it up and be still. Breathe deeper. Let me settle. Let me let go. Let me fold myself into you cell by cell by tiny cell. I won’t stay long. I’m just so fucking tired.