16
The problem with this place is that no one is good enough.
Love yourself, tell yourself that you are beautiful,
but these walls aren't listening;
painted inside our own eyes, we nearly glow,
but that effulgence is diluted when it tries to broadcast itself through our skin.
17
This air is toxic;
I'm trying to breathe, but the windborne poisons creep into my throat;
Are my lips turning blue?
Is my heart giving up?
I think I am the only one polluted by these atrocities;
I think my restlessness has made me vulnerable.
18
I stood with the vagrants and shouted discontent;
I marked midnight with a firestorm the size of a city;
I threw myself into a circle of sharks just to learn their names;
I sang a threnody for the dead men who wander and burn and hold each other's hands;
I went down with the ship and spoke with the leviathan;
I leapt off a precipice and let the wind ferry me to a more halcyon age.
19
I stumbled into the wrong body.
My friend extended his hand; I bent this strange body
and took it eagerly.
20
"Anathema" isn't bad all the time.
21
I am honesty in parts,
I am three notes in the chorus of angels,
I am a frown between the indifferent,
My flesh is a red sky and my ribs are a cathedral;
I am stuck here, suspended between a thimble and a thundercloud —
but I'm not finished yet.
3 comments:
i like it. i'd do a song of myself, but i barely know enough about myself to do much with introspect.
and in response to your comment, i should have said "get it." compliments have a tendency of overwhelming the other facets of something else. which is good, most of the time. but still. don't be insulted.
that last line gets me.
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