killing me to death

she's on my mind like burnt liquor.
vigorous fingers touching extended strips of broken
sky. fractured in the middle. a rapid smoke claws
incredulously to chain the baby. the baby wasn't
born- it was remembered. in the way that memories
give birth to things.(birth of the dead) The past is a
burial ground. Things built on the past are haunted.
Memories raping the past like some over dew forest.
tongue in a dead man's philosophy. stroking a personality
till ejaculations light the mind. Stain the Tao. life force
light source. killing me to death. shaking, the hands of time
tattoo outlines of eternity on the belly of the beast. invaders
are dragged by a foreign language into bloodstains
that belong to the nameless. they tried to blame this text.
she's on my mind like stray sex. 'i like you for your X-ness'
The X is a cigarette burn onto a lucid crucifix perceived
in moments of bliss, framed only to be chiseled out
of existence.