I have too much of the moon in me,
Her exposure elicits my cravings.
In order to subsist I must burn
Yet I cannot shake these doubts
That wear me down to ash.
–
My failures read without introduction.
I am lost, perhaps absent, certainly unwilling.
I am without consistency or echo.
When was the last time you had
A conversation that didn’t involve regurgitation?
When was the last time your eyes
Were regarded with certainty?
–
The wolves are tugging at my elbows.
There is no poultice that can soothe
My aggravation and no authority
That I have not assembled against.
Do not tell me why “should” or how “to”
Just let me live, a crumb bludgeoned
To perfection by a slick grey tongue.
mindlovemisery 