you want the truth but not what i can offer to you. the thing in my pocket is something i have yet to name. a chasing avalanche. a drowning cascade. if staying afloat means honesty, then i would rather sink. shatter all the glasses and run away sprinting. see, i am a coward moving like a prey. afraid of baring my nape and finding salvation in pain. terrifying the rough grips yet leaning forward still. pupils dilated adrenaline rushing. the sheer truthiness of pain unbidding.
confession feels like running your mouth knowing at which alphabet it ends. but i want to give you this truth so i kneel a litany too long, hail mary-s hurling while the mass long gone; asking for an ending i’ve played before. i want, i want, i want, the hymn echoes. sating visceral hunger is a death wish unspoken.
feet aching, paper plate thinning; in your body-church i am slowly decanting. on these stone-cold tiles i lay owning my truth:
my dreams are honest where i cannot be. so i turn off the lights pretending it’s your hands instead; letting their body dissolve into air. watching realities blooming purples. ragged breathings moon-shaped scratches. faux whimpers splitting throats open. my body, the prometheus in these three acts tragedy. the torch lighted. fire blows up. lies white enough to absolve. sweat-ridden sheet sagging with flesh i desire but not enough.
if i love you, is that a fact or a weapon?
i watch them sleep unmoving, reflecting a somber moonlight. my tongue caught in-betweens. heart in cage ceaselessly hammering. killing is an easy task. you take a man’s life and run away with his heart. shed him from your body and watch silence wanes the cacophony. pretending remains easier, still. tell me of why you left and i’ll leave nodding, trailing your back on someone else’s body.
listen. listen. listen: i am tired.
the embers are gleaming—silent torches demanding me confessing; so here’s the truth; my triumphant atonement, my dying out prayer: i am missing you and i don’t know what to do.