they tell me to think and to understand
the situation
the normality that is at risk
their perspective
and they have no idea
no ******* idea
the guilt
every day of my life
for them
when I hold everything I am between my lips
like a candied cigarette stick
holding this sweet feeling of love
on the pink of my tongue
never truly consuming
what I know will ruin me
but wanting more than anything
to devour
to consume
but the fear of fire and its isolation
and the wisdom beyond the clouds
the sickness of creating sin falling over my mothers face
keeps the stick balanced between my teeth
straight
pearly whites guarding my sins
like an Eden apple rotten from the skin down
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 9:03 AM UTC