suffering’s biggest spectator

won't you come closer?

those aching thunderstorms were cast away months ago, yet reality still buzzes behind tired eyelids.

above, songbirds rest in trees, watching as boyish creation myths spit shared memories into the river.

we haven’t spoke in a while.

i won’t apologize. i crave the silence more than the response. yours… his.

shadows settle around my underfed ambitions. parts of my brain hold itself hostage; self-poisioned with luck, love, lust.

something out of the coner of my eye pleads to pry open these aging wounds.

could i have been saved if you loved me less? if you chose a different god?

calloused hands spasm, a web of deceit and false promises pull apart my nameless counterparts.

face me open-mouthed, consume me. spit me right back up. i cannot grasp my past, present, future.

the myth is over. the line always ends at some point. it isn’t honest if it isn’t hard.

after everything won’t you tell me your fears?