Would you like to wish
you’ve seen nothing—
as if it were an imagining,
deluding your eyes,
twisting this truth of perception
out of your control?
Would you like to wish
you’ve never seen what you’ve seen;
that you’ve never witnessed
this searing divide,
forcing you to weep like a fool;
that there is a rusted fire
built around you like bars
of a cage, holding you in
seized paralyzation.
Yes,
you wish you weren’t
stuck on every hue of the abyss,
unable to part from
its endless chasm of inquiry.
You can only fall further
into its deadly everything,
so very easily,
keeping yourself to its allure; the mystery in its allure,
wishing you would
let yourself go because
it is devouring you whole,
like you are devouring yourself whole.
It is a misery
hammering into your heart,
like a stolid fear, muzzling speech—
you cannot speak
words to escape nor even open
your throat to gasp;
you are trapped in everything
and in nothing;
hundreds and thousands of cut
lines meeting in absurdity
and here—
yes,
it is no salve to save
your stunted sanity;
no medicine in meaning—
only the beast of a god,
malformed and ascendant,
who guards the wish of freedom
from a lifetime of solitude and addiction.