Was never any wriggling our way into an alternate reality
Or
Could I for five minutes
Just five uninterrupted moments
Mend the mortal grief that confronts my every thought?
No.
I fear that if I cannot accept it,
Am I really any better than the men who raped me?
No.
I am all out of your favorite shade
trying to maneuver a mango gold into a searing red
Of well if everyone is calling the peach a gooseberry
Whose to say it isn’t at least a bit sour?
No, and shut down the gaslight on your way out.
No, who once tried to inch its way toward a
sorta-kinda-maybe (?)
But collapsed before the presence of prophecy
No is exactly what it looks like.
I am exactly what I look like.
Bombs May Fall.
That which is longing to kill me may well have her day in court.
The mere state of my silver sliver is not
what is being balanced on the scales of time and reason.
Speak your truth;
But should that two-lettered brute
Happen to pry the way out its jawbone jailhouse,
To try and train it, already born, bourne
and on its way to ruin?
To conquer its fate now is too tenuous a task
that only time could possibly tell.
about// The worst sort of liars are the ones lying to themselves
