the thin averageness of the masses makes my soul puke

the other day
i saw a movie
where two
big thugs
held this guy
while another
ogre hit him
over & over
in the gut
& when they
finally let him
go he collapsed
blood streaming
out of his
mouth

i've never
had this happen
to me
but i feel
like i'm
being assaulted
in the same
manner
when around
people too long

two holding
the arms
of my soul
while another
pounds
their knuckles
into my angel's
abdomen

but they aren't
big or thugs
just quite
thin & average

& later
at my
tiny apartment
i wipe
the blood
from my
spirit's lips
& drop
on my
mattress
finally
out of
their
clutches

there's always a heap of pain between us

when it comes
to loving
we're both
always haunted
by loss
to the point
of possession

vomiting
our pain
so fiercely
that love
gets covered
by chunks
of our guts

there's
always
this stinking
heap
between
us

then alone
again
we stick fingers
down
our throats

weeping
&
drying heaving
through
the
nights

trying
to
puke
up
emptiness

never learning
that,
unlike pain,
ennui
cannot
be
purged

this
is
the
stuff
the
stomach
is
made
of