Explain to me, dearest Muses, about dualism.
Yes, dualism, the light and dark, yin and yang,
contradictory nature of all us mere humans.

How is it, verily, that a man (or boy)
such as I, may keep a copy of Rumi
which I read from almost sanctimoniously,
yet also drink like a ***** Irish fiend,
spouting profanity thirty seconds
after writing a hymn?

Self-renewing logic fail, let us begin
as somebody believes that the Internet is actually God.
Or perhaps it's vice-versa, and Facebook is guiding us
to the promised land with a shared post from Jesus.

Well, I guess I shouldn't judge, as that
would make me a hypocrite of vociferous proportions.
If people want to find God in a machine,
that's their business.

sometime, last night, I wrapped the sheet that was trapped between our heat, around my slender hips, across my bared chest and I tiptoed across the floor, to the door, that took me down the quiet hall and into the kitchen, where memories of our last fight sat congealing on the bench and on the floor, in between the broken wine bottle and the knife standing on its tip, embedded in the breadboard.
Last night, my love burned to ashes on a pyre of self loathing and bitter sweet regrets as I undressed and laid myself before you like dessert, even though the meal was less fine, and you whispered over and over you're mine and each heartbeat, last night, was for you, each whimper borne from pain, from shame, without a name, last night, it was all for you...
Last night you broke me, last night you spoke to me in ways that will always remain my terror, where you are the demon, ever ruling forever, my secret domain.
Last night, as I ghosted through the door, wrapped in our sweat stained sheet, a whisper beneath my feet and my soul dragging behind me like a long lost sheep...
I entered the kitchen and ignored
the evidence of our last hope and reached out a steady hand toward the breadboard.

This morning, I am a brand new woman