the pain of a wound that won't heal III

the pain of a wound that won't heal III

crazies...
and i'm a pill bug
rolling
on a piece of notebook paper
before they
do their experiements.

but you
wonder why i've cried.
my skin tightens
as you stroke my arm.
it's okay
i say
and can't say more.
knowledge
is the vacuum of space
and sucks
the words
out of my lungs.
there is no hope
in intellectual discourse,
only in the rising and falling
of two bodies
tightly clasped.