you crawled into my bed
  like some sort of giant insect
  and i found myself spellbound
  that night at the sight of you there
  beautiful and grotesque and all the rest of that bug stuff
  bluffing your way into my mouth
  behind my teeth, reaching for my scars
  that night we got kicked out of two bars
  and laughed our way home
    that night you leaned over
  and threw up into your hair
  and i held you there thinking
  i would offer you my pulse
  if i thought it would be useful
  i would give you my breath
  except
  the problem with death is that you have
  some hundred years and then they can
  build building on your only bones
  100 years and then your grave is not your own
  we lie in out beds, and our graves
  unable to save ourselves from
  the quaint tragedies we invent
  and then undo from the stupid circumstances
  we slomen through
  and i realized that night that the hall light
  which seemed so bright when you turned it on is nothing
  compared to the dawn
  which is nothing, compared to the light
  which seeps from me while you're sleeping beautiful
  and grotesque resting caconed in my room
  that night we got kicked out of two bars
  and laughed our way home
  and i held you there thinking
  i would offer you my pulse
  i would give you my breath
  i would offer you my pulse