POEM: the stunt, the stunt double and the corpse

Velmock

 I dressed and became like them, 

 mistaking my desire for joy

“It is in the bottom of a bag”

So I went shopping

“It is in the bottom of a bottle”

I spun drunk 

“It is in the grasp of a lover”

so I kissed the mirror 

then kissed another 

Imprecise grief 

over this gap in my chest.

It was filled before I was born 

and after I am dead.

“All this inward looking 

has turned you crossed-eyed!

Don’t you know that pleasure chases away death  

elongates life?”

I want to go home. 

Will I surrender this body into light?
To be in love undivided- will I die before I die?