sy.zy.gy.

you open my front door,
enter through my teeth.
find yourself a soft corner of lung
to sleep in.
within the alveolus
you dream,
and dream.

you're building a
ribcage printing press,
my little gutenberg.
take the elevator spine to
brain my and scratch,
you scratch words.

thou art art, thinks me,
and oxygen flow.
i breathe, you stretch,
we all go shiver delight.
i steal water from
rain-puddles for
us to drink.
you ear
inner are.

spider-filaments
of luck like sun-
flight through my
(your) veins.
are we so much
one that we grow
into one
another?