The Iceberg Gospel
unexpressed
not lost
just festering
like maggots in a velvet drawer
polite rot,
ugly’s rehearsal in a satin mask
they called it “coping”
I called it
an audition for the collapse

truth sits in the dark with its mouth sewn shut
but the fingers twitch,
the breath stammers,
and the skin tells stories
that lips choke back
secrets drip through pores
no mortal stays clean

freedom?
you mean
the prison where I build my own walls
and call them boundaries
where I sign my name in blood
on every oath I never meant to keep
you want my freedom?
take my guilt, too
it comes in chains
with a mirror

I dreamed of drowning in my own skull
the waves were laughter
"Royal Road," they whispered
but the map was in hieroglyphics
and the key was shame
no torch,
just instincts gnawing
through ego's leash

love
the elegant executioner
comes dressed in silk
with a knife shaped like
a promise

the iceberg mind
a cathedral with only one open pew
and six sunk in shadow
we float
but not really

you want peace?
talk to the soft voice
the whisperer
the intellect that scratches the chalkboard of your spine
until you finally
turn around
and say:
“Yes, that was me.”

struggle?
it kissed me with cracked lips
and called it salvation
now I look back
and see
a cathedral of scars
lit by the ghost of becoming

and still,
I bleed
from every buried word
I dared not speak.