Do You Care?

Do you care who cuts your hair? Does it matter whose hand slips down your back and grasps the firmness of your soul?

Is it hard to be ghoul? Does it take much effort to slide the softness of a sin and let it sliver, sight unseen, into the night?

Do you know much fright? Do you know what it means to walk among the living (and the less than living), fouled and frenzied, vivisectioned flesh?

I’ll let you know. I’d like to let you know.

I knew what passion was. I saw it in my dreams and as it streams unstopped, unstoppable, unreleased, unrealized, I glimpse it as it goes.

I watch it as it glows and flickers, All the lows and highs of living lightly passing by.

But now I know.

I think I know, I want to know, how silently, relentlessly, it goes.