Zepure Arman: Pacts

I’m making a pact
with some wormhole of fury
to spiral me out of control

licking my wounds
I fall faintly to the thief
who stole my mind

treasure me softly
pleasure me barely
and give me a minute
full of air

air for the day
air for an hour
air which is mine and I’ll sell you through
the mail

yes I’ll sell you this air for
a bucket of fury
to buckle me back in control

Copyright Zepure Arman. Used here by kind permission of the author