"We have not touched the stars, 
 nor are we forgiven, which brings us back 
 to the hero's shoulders and a gentleness that comes, 
 not from the absence of violence, but despite 
 the abundance of it. The lawn drowned, the sky on fire, 
 the gold light falling backward through the glass 
 of every room. I'll give you my heart to make a place 
 for it to happen, evidence of a love that transcends hunger." 
 What an experience. I'm usually not one for poetry, at least not when it comes to pleasure reading. I was a Literature major, I've been through my fair share of poems, I know how the repetitive rhythm of Alexandrine verses can get stuck into your head so that even your thoughts follow the same cadence afterwards; I've explored the themes of love and death and desire in all their forms. But, for me, the pleasure of reading poetry always centred around the analysis that came after the reading. So, this was something else. 
 I still feel this need, it's an instinct at this point, something drilled into my whole being. My first thought after I'd read a couple poems was: "I need a lecture on Homoeroticism in Contemporary Poetry ASAP!". Because I want to talk about this book, I want to write essays about this book and compare interpretations, I want to analyse this book until it's left bare and open and bleeding. 
 You could even write novels just about the title: I love the juxtaposition and the ambiguity about the meaning of the word "Crush". How it can be something innocent and light but, as a verb, is also something that destroys and oppresses. We're used to seeing love and thinking of love as this beautiful thing, but it's also violent. It's lust and desire, something animal and primal that you can feel all over, something which can take over your body and your mind, and do some damage on the way. 
 I love the structure of the poems, how it gives poetry character: it's raw, it's like a stream of consciousness at times. And, while the Foreword talked about panic, I think the poems are more about pain and desperation. The rhythm of some poems especially sounds like desperation, like he needs to get it all out of his chest before it's too late, before he looses it, before his chance slips away. "Saying Your Names" is a perfect example of that. 
 There's also the recurring themes of fire and destruction, and seeing it all happen/making it all happen as if it couldn't go any other way. Like, the author always talks about "you", and sometimes it's the person he loves/loved/wants to love, but sometimes it's himself, so it feels like he places himself as a spectator of all these events, watching it happen while unable to act accordingly or change a thing. And there's also guilt and blame and longing and tiredness. So much longing and tiredness. There's that passage from Wishbone about how love/lust/relationships in general can destroy us, and the tiredness, the fatigue in his tone, the feeling like he's stuck on a loop with no escape possible, condemned to continue on forever: 
 "You keep saying 
 I owe you, I owe... 
 but you say the same thing 
 every time. Let's not talk about it, let's just not talk. 
 Not because I don't believe it, not because I want it any different, but I'm 
 always saving and you're always owing and I'm tired of asking to settle 
 the debt. Don't bother. You never mean it 
 anyway, not really, and it only makes me that much more ashamed." 
 And god, I love Wishbone so much, you know? 
 "I'm battling monsters, I'm pulling you out of the burning buildings 
 and you say 
 I'll give you anything 
 but you never come through. 
 Even when you're standing up 
 you look like you're lying down, but will you let me kiss your neck, baby? 
 Do I have to tie your arms down? Do I have to stick my tongue in your 
 mouth like the hand of a thief, 
 like a burglary, like it's just another petty theft? It makes me tired, 
 Henry." 
 There's probably a hundred things to say about this book, about these poems, and I've barely scratched the surface there (if I even managed to make a dent in it). 
 I bought this book because I often come across some of his poems and they always leave me dumbstruck. I just have this really strong reaction to his poetry, which is nothing I've ever felt before, and I was continuously left speechless while reading. So, not at all "as if the top of my head were taken off". Sorry Emily, but I don't think it's quite the right reference for me.