A-Dieu as a Song to MySelf

there is a missing forest in my blind anxiety
where I left my bare feet and my sandals
yesterday
(no more nascent fragments of burned skin
between us?)

the loss of my tongue promises wild things
maybe
(no more expansion of litteral miscaptures
between us?)

my night errancy launches a silent war against the sun
flesh of my flesh
with bloodshed
(please no more 'Kiss-moi' songs in here!
cries a distancing chorus of monstruous fears)

strange gusts of light particles between us
disbelieve my most intimate theories on Darkness
at midnight

(who is selving through such a reversed Spring?
whose song is This? whose body is This?
am I a poem To-You, One, None?
am I poesis on disflow?)