the time is coming

when i will go back

into the photojournalist

i feel it like that child of five

scary thing behind me

falling up dark cellar stairs

the time is coming

when i will crawl back into him

or he will come back into me

 

hey, did i ever tell you

how he was already a part of me

how his smell existed in my memory

did i ever tell you how beneath him

i understood it all, and perfectly

as if  he, as if everything to do with

as if he, as if everything to do with

as if he happened to me all before