tell you another secret:
when the world was made it
was made for desire. I know this
because god came to me in a dream
and told me that I am paragonic
that I am grief without substance.
I want so badly I burn like tar
and feel like high-rise

falling.
   I want so badly like a funeral. Looking back
and forward at the same time.
I always mistake ease for goodness and
the languish opens a hole in my stomach.