Transport

I want to crawl inside your carcass-
your heart won't need to beat,
I'll do the work
I'll squeeze it in-out make
blood pictures in finger prints and
can you still live
when I'm sat on your liver?
It's just so cosy in here
and it's a wholesome activity
to be filling a cavity
assisting coronary
in murk undulating dark.
I reach up your neck and wave hello-
we have to keep up the charade of politeness.
Your skin is plenty for me,
stroke it back down
(raised like spokes)
People greet you and think you're alone
but it's ok I'll put them right,
there's no need for anyone to come near
when I'm doing your life job.
I'll crunch my spine in line with you
make like a foetus
reach through intestines and trace
patterns through flesh layers.
You have to guess the letters
from the outside.
You're moving slower these days
people can't stand the stench,
back away.
But I know you see my stroked letter words.
And I know your smell,
I can find it with nostril twitches
if I pull out hair strands,
savour
them,
one by
one.
Inhaling is all I do.
I get hungry these days
but I don't mind when I can't see,
I'll follow your head noises
on the Gravesend train stopping.