I do not possess
A wren’s vibrato
The supernal utterance
Palliative and perplexing
As a diurnal breach
My tongue is slippery
It stokes the fire simpering
Inside your cerebellum
Sweeps the floor
From underneath
Your sensible shoes
Buckles both knees
To assuage the ruse
There is ecstasy in regret
The way it drenches pride
The way it clings, graphic
As static and longitudinal
As a windswept rain
I covet these burns
That I may not do so again
I’ve a head full of moss
Soft as a freshly risen grave
I believe in karma
In the agitation of fate
Still I cannot see
Any other lantern
Save the moon
My eyes are not a lake
Into which one would
Consciously drown
For who could bare
Long enough to look?
Who could thread
My brokenness?
My loneliness?
My rage?
There is no aperture
Of comparable size
I myself am a void
Who could riddle me
Into cohesion?
mindlovemisery 