a white mold

is covering

growing silent deep cough
over sleeping head collar bone
white

mold, my lungs fur blowing

when the bed has two heads mine touches
the silhouette, the family tree, the history - veins

but you question any root
a blackened deadened thread
woven cover for doubled glance

but the mold it still grows
over you and over me
our heads two headed bed
and it fills the lungs like smoke
a white
not black cover to this breathe
these words

dull edge, soft glance
only with the inside-out
give in give in
not for fear but the loss of it

the mold is alive
and its not afraid