touched

It’s the blemish that makes the beauty they say, and then they get a look up close. Apostasy the way of things, the words go overboard. Always quick with cross and crown, the linger of the lash, the contempt wins the day. They twist the knife while speaking sweetly. The poison is in the blood. The words abate, the mark made, the culling begun at birth. Each day is too much.

So bide the night and cup the sky inside. The bones bind the vessel to breath and digestion, the wild grasping entanglement like a tide of weeping and tooth hurt. Pain always a partner through the long corridor, I am sore from joists to organs, the velocity of the fall from flight and the drag of all that’s lost. You so far despite your best intentions. The so good long since gone.

The die is cast, the arrow loosed. There’s no going back as the karma accumulates, the swallow soon provident, the begets are bespoke in these here parts of the world. One act to free catastrophe, one kiss to awaken you for good. The break there from the beginning, the world burning at both ends of time, cold read and thunderstruck in the echoes of your eyes. Touched once and left to tend to the pieces.