Suggest Impersonality

show me love, try not to tell me love.
too much broken, too much shattered.
so early it was, the banshee appeared,
she battled to destroy us, so left
behind
so lost, so relocated.
I heard he had you, so sexual, I
imagine the excellence, every position,
I let myself down.
the soul is vexed, a minx, fur inside,
spinning, essence grieving—so low in
voltage lately, trauma eating behavior,
I knew the destruction; I could feel it.
lights out, smelling courage, I come to
us,
self, pain in glory. good times,
like a widow, like black fights, so
cultured, so esoteric, so disruptive.
is it Adelle’s pain, transformation,
Kerry’s acting, beautiful the attractive
vats, liquor in blood, taste buds
blooming, Bassett’s mastery—last in
line, first in infatuation—I heard we
had fun?
no time left. I realize it’s meaningful.
to have one legacy, one gift, so pulled,
looking at pressure, wondering, what
we
tolerate; so foolish, I want to feel like a
fool, a clown, I want to touch, like
never on a good day—shaking, face
buried, tears of ecstasy, as given
something, we couldn’t afford to spend.  
a man knows he’s in trouble, to
ponder the beloved, eyes watering,
palms made of awareness,
looking at invisible nails. jumping into
my mind, coalescing with passion,
converging on faith—I heard more is
impermanent.
I thank us for excellence—hurting
riddles, threshing moons, too much to
suggest impersonality.