Sandalwood Charnel

It's possible
That I never gave you a ticket for the charnel ground
Yet you're here
Holding your blindfold, nightshirt rippled on roots and vines;
Walking the patterns
Our intersections carved out of the sandalwood hills

I, as always, ankle deep in water, looking for sustenance
Greedily grabbing the pieces of flesh and spirit that hurry by
Putting together my golem and not understanding why it won't
Simply meld into what I need

Need, distance, time
Feed the emesis coming from my throat and sternum
Pushing the golem towards shore and your trajectory

Foot into clay
You're a part of what I need
But can never have

Love, as a creation, as *my* creation

It's better the blindfold is on

I don't want you to see me weep.