once i reached for the burn in bottles 
the burn that blurs and deadens pain 
on dirty couches with fragrant strangers 
waking to the ache of pulsing temples 

once traveled twice worn 
the stretch of the road by cheap hotels 
with women who knew the embrace of chaos 
the orphic rites the ancient hatreds 

turned into a sensual blaze before 
the inevitable coming of all the blood 
that rises in anger at the futile way 
we try to leave things better 
but only end up

leaving


things