some part of me always leaking

after t’ai freedom ford

i swallow your voice and then swallow my own let them commingle 
in my gut i walk to water and then i walk into it i do not expect to come out but i return always i walk until i bleed i bleed until i stop and then i start again there is no in between no transitory period no doorway entryway hallway only in distance hands wrap around throat until break and then hoarse through the revolving door a parade without honor a cast without direction a course without focus i harden i coarse i watch as you soften until i don’t see you a tongue tastes like salt layer of brine pickled thick with sour with acrid acid with vinegar rot with taste disappears just as quick as it came and i swallow around your tongue in my mouth still attached to your face i quicken i rumble i forest i fumble i wallow in absence of moonlight to guide me i trace with my eyes the distance not traveled i lockstep i shudder under weight of this body my body or other i cleave skin from skin i drag teeth through dirt let your voice settle in my stomach