Poem: Speaking of a Disjoint

as much as I want to please you

God holds down my tongue, 

holds down my spine 

in a fixated angle

and as much I want to 

be with you 

I feel like 

a bundle of broken bridges 

meeting

your eye. God plants

my feet in the offish

keeps my axial

spinning off its axis

and like a deformed loop

I keep wanting to forget

how to create an awkward

equilibria from this stimulus

God knows much of this 

as well as the finite little

you know as well.