Let loose of grammar, stammering through unversed lines
in persistent attempts to share language-art with other 
listening eyes and seeing ears I drag my intensities 
across smooth sheets, roughening with the touch of my word's breath; rasping lately from having poured out 
so much in so few sound  shapes. And still in the cold 
communication of eyes locking and staring all the same 
way , chills through my layers of artificial skin. 
My steel knuckled hand clenches tight and then tighter
to restrain from desired acts of violent subterfuge.
Tearing words from my own lips; thrown mercilessly;
my partial death on your lap. Instead, I might maintain
a light composure before all premature conveyance 
can be fully stopped. Then suddenly there I go 
again hurdling bridges, its such a different view 
altogether from the eye's corners, where empty spaces 
will dance on spindled legs and we are left 
still hungering for an unfound, unfathomable taste, 
some where between earth and chocolate.