if I stare at the roof long enough
would i let it's ink
roll down over me ? 

my shape, pliant and waiting and 
rutting
tilting toward the certainty 
the cooing touch and strain
spreading stygian weight 
pressing down, down, and do...wn

coy and waiting with glistening teeth
brushing, roiling voice 
weight like a purring cinderblock
hands, too many to be real 
too deft to be human 
too good to be true 
yet the aching heat leaving my body 
continues to temper and pitch 
toward the promise of ruin 
until I plead
with ringing ears 
for death 
to drip down over me 
to drop. 

and yet it hangs, a kiss away 
despite how I strain so gleefully 
under weighty obsidian drops 
thickening the cloud consciousness
the prescribed ghosts in my blood 

"please" -- 
even for a cold laugh to end me 
a grin, a grimace 
tongue or eyes or eyelash 
any answer but 
this surgical stare
of eternity .

if I stare at the roof long enough
would i let it's ink
roll down over me ?