You
smoke at all the strongest times.
Cigarettes write essays on where your self goes –
two directions,
dark and
holy, uncontrolled.
You know how to
pray:
thickly, and
without regret.
Sexual but
regal.
Badass.
Each
osmosis captures more completely than the last.
Never meant to see through
mirrors,
distractions serve
hors d’oeuvres and slowly seal your
fate.
And yet, you
wait.
Furiously loyal in
denial.
Immortal as to know the truth.
Unstable enough to care.
A blend of
psyches holds you down.
A
human grips your sacred
heart.
He says,
I can’t go on.
But the lights
let go.
It’s all circumstantial in the dark.
Take pity, because oh, it
sears your throat when you say it.
Spit on
salvation. Have no
shame.
Forget your two names.
A
dirty angel waits who will welcome them both.