(scroll in landscape mode for intended experience)

One day, I'll really exhale.
Then this agony sack, which only writes
the same words over and over,
will have death coming.

I want you there when I die
and the agonies paint the floor. Can you lick them up?
After all this time, I'm still looking for a
misery eater.
Which is unfair to ask of anyone, but
me and Jesus are in a complicated place,
so I'll keep asking you.

There's a one-in-Q chance you'll read this poem.
I wish you had never seen my work
or would let every line I've written
fill your eyes to burst.

I want to breathe in your soul
and breathe myself out.

An ant demands so much
of the sidewalk.