A burden so gruesome that we cannot speak of it.
The tiring lies of a mind yet desired.
Can we fathom our ways?
Can we masquerade about in pithy, writhing moments?
So often have I returned to this place,
Where my spoils and fillings have nothing left to give,
So I think.
And, for this, I know that every occurrence is a façade.
And, for this, I know that there is treasure left within.
To what do we owe this?
What begot so much distain?
What begot so much distance?
To whom can I trace this ******, frozen mire?
Myself.
It all lies within.
So, tonight we tear out our hearts and bury their remains
Into a ground that’s been flooded with so much confusion,
In hopes that our minds will follow.
…But will this blood still seep through my veins?
Will its persistent emotion inhabit every cell?
I have died tonight, with grace and compassion.
Yet, the image of a pulsing heart in my palms
will cause my soul to quiver.
I shiver at the thought.
Where do I go from here?

It’s still alive in me,
It’s still alive in me…