i am in hate with you
it's just two doors down on your right
from where we used to be.

it is harder and hotter,
sharper and more boring.

it is a simultaneous urge to slap the shit out of you
and rub your chest on my cheek like an old rag.

it is the holding of many difficult pieces of knowledge,
that you and I are all that will work,
that you will not work for me,
that I can't work like this,
that your work is all wrong.
that you are a piece of work.

but hush so quiet
in your belly these rocks feel bad.
need a professional just to keep them from hurling
themselves at your chiseled little face.