between my ribs by David McLean

lives inexorable empty & only you there, & that only fragments & dust. every temporary being we shed like skins no longer needed because they have forgotten their meanings. the sun is in the heaven her psychotic dance – she moves so slow i barely notice & light is there for hurting. thus here is the abject, the leaf in me arrogant as every other answer ever.

still you protect me from morning & its swords, its murders, the psychopath sun. i might say i contain multiplicities once, but i am Celt so none of them get on very well together & we only want to burn down the world & zombie dentistry, illusions &, to sing love ugly & very much out of tune. 

between my ribs every word forgotten. there is a terribly patient suffering, it waits for the sun to come back, it is the same maybe in everyone i do not know. (if a tit happens to fly into a room it will panic, it will fly around beating itself against the walls until its little heart stops, so one must move fast like an animal & catch it in one’s hand feeling its tiny heart thunder & let it free under the innocent sky to hope it lives forever.) 

between my ribs i have forgotten me & there is only you, Emma, my shame & the nightmarish affirmation Nietzsche said is the only thing that really matters. i say “yes” “yes” & “yes” to every suffering there ever was in me its optimistic eternity. “yes”, Emma, forever & again. it hurts to love you, but there is nothing better.


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