The Same Thing

Why do the body and soul
Talk in different tongues?
I’d kill the body,
Release the heart,
But the heart is so of the body,
So long, isn’t, an option.
(Maybe they’re the same thing.)

Maybe the way to isolate that world
Is to take a blade
And erase the parts
That ache when you walk in the room.
Neuter desire by denial.
(Maybe they’re the same thing.)

Stripped raw of insulation,
I’m subject to the parade
Of your naïve diseases;
Your head’s iron charade.

I’m so tired
But never too tired to care.
When the light withers
My fixation trickles
With the gaze of the moon
And I hurt for you and because of you.

Maybe they’re the same thing.