tell me this

the feeling of being set free

despite a decision to the contrary

and it's open-mindedness

that is a trap-

it forgives you to make the weightiest decisions

and leaves my ember glowing, only.

i'll know anything before you tell me

because i've courted all the factors

to count them

and their numbers tell me this:

that you've excused yourself

and politely washed your hands

and left me to founder falsely,

for the sake of consistency,

at the table we set together.

but this bright mind is an expanse

a vision of glowing futures

wild, open fires, even

and the truest escape

you ever gave me.

Pulp

My gravest mistake is in thinking

I am more beautiful when I am angry.

But my anger is a sharp shadow

That files a form both lean and monstrous.

Look at my face.

The storm you find there will give you faults

you will never own or adhere to.

The gray of it will cut your teeth,

will send a stark whisper

straight to your pulp.

But what ache do I have

for souls who roll skittering from me

like marbles from wind?