In your arms I am
an ant asleep, Anti-people
Super-Me. Beneath your lips
Jade holocausts, silver fires
leaving nothing to hold.
To die the deed-ache.
I feel the empty. I feel
Ex nihilo nihil fit
screwed into hope.
Flustered with slang hanging
born on bloodied sheets,
perilous fall. Tainted color.
Until you see,
the minute becomes spoiled
dots seethe; My Queen!
My blushing darling banging
ashtrays against clouds.
Leeches awake, unaffected;
Mirrors haunting mountains
as the sky blinks.
As sharp skies shrink.
Exits pull, dreaming dulcet
the blinds bulge I can't
hold the shape without
Visual miscarriages.
I can't take wheels
burning upon horizons
against square planets.
I can't sleep
any longer than my dreams
toppling , twisting, slipping.
Gripping dark, the poison
camouflages any escape
from the beast of curves
and shapes.
If only I were a letter.
If only I broke through.
To pray; hear you scream.
to twitter and tinkle
and sink as if a seam.
to gaze as if a beam,
shocking attachments ¬ that
Great Big White World.
And The nothing Between.

Very nice imagery. :)

Most poems are separated into stanzas, however, which you might consider doing to make this one easier to follow.

Very inspiring and nicely thought of.