Erysipelas

He blushes when we glance at each other -a really lively Rosenrot
reaching deeper than the shipwreck did breathing comes through rough
an accordion of poverty and the mechanical sound of a massacre
how the skins tear apart how the blood waters the fabrics
ignis sacer a capite ad calcem
will he die of this?

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Pages made of something heavy, could be lead under malachite green
and the backbone of the book is shattered say from reading up
or left open on the bed sipping from the warm lake of alcohol
this vomit of phenol and formaldehyde was from my heart, I would have told him
if he asked of course how the sores erupt shooting spores and toxic
drops straight at the faces of the infirmières? A finger's touch and they explode
as if the infirmières were in a carnal dream of an educated bore
my insoluble substance of affection
settles down in his head.

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A vocal sediment of a promised future
epic bouquets distributed? Tell me, he shouted
Indeed. These empty hands now this empty mouth now
they bring the self since the rest is given
what was ever the rest was there ever any? I did
tell him, a wide surface of sunburn reminiscences an inflammation
of sorts shined upon my plead as he offered a nation of postponements
I shouted but my skin tore apart
will I die of this, doctor?