Seven

It’s been a week
since ISAWYOU—

That was the last time I felt anything
the last time

The last time I was connected to me
I was

I was too close to know it
but beauty can’t be hold
— it

So I run around these fucking games
I run around taking aim

Because how could I know
I couldn’t
let show

The arrow through my heart
(the blood in my mouth)
The feeling of cosmic explosions
(a sentient repulsion)
When I last saw you

…and how I lived through