I am incongruous;
inconstant. I am this
night, this day arising
from the hollows of
death, despair. I am
this broken cry, shattering
the glass silence; disruption
of the subtle calm that
holds you. I disclose myself
in all my intimacy, in my darkest
shade, in my natural state
of blood and skin. I disclose
myself to the cold stare of
a view from some high up
place. Some high up place of
judgement that strikes me down.
Strike me down in my place.
Hold me no more.