Do you hear the music?
The glittering, sensual sound of the drums--
the slippery cry of your blood, well above the rest, floating, tripping above
the beat--incessant, warm, seductive, true.

The gushing, pulsing noise of your blood calls to me--
beckons me.
I need it because it needs me.
Your sweet, salty copper-sparkly blood needs me to set it free
to set you free
to release you from the preordained path of cold, celery-colored loneliness,
from bourgeoisie suburban sunrise above the lawn.
Free of myths and dictums, and the lies and the lives
full of meaningless joy.

Welcome to pain--
to the sharp intense suffering--reality.
I hated to bring you pain; I only wanted to give you my love,
but Love is Pain,
and Pain is Blood.

I love you.