Faith In Nothing?

Burn like an antique wicker cabinet,

Flawed pastel chalk-white and equally frail,

Ground beneath the boot heels of your prime and your

Arrogant sense of self-serving righteousness.

After all, it’s for my own good, correct?

So press your ideals within my already cracking

Soul with the mere tip of your toe, so

That I may swallow my pride and choke on the rhines..

Hold me within your autumn-scented promises,

And rejoice in my beautiful oblivion.

My steps are as halting as the silver summer rain,

Errant and coy, chasing after your shadow, and just as

Devoid of music as the carton of milk in the depths of the refrigerator.

Best drunk by November 15th, drain me to the dregs and wipe

My shadow from your lips with an indifferent sleeve, and leave

Me to dance with origami shadows. My thoughts are

Gossamer spider webs, dream-silver graced with a

Film-emulsion black heart at its core, ensnaring the

Brilliant clips and silhouettes of magazine cutouts

And bold paparazzi lies.

Titling at windmills, turning my gray sweater of

Doubt inside out and carving love letters on my arm.

You tell me I’m nothing, yet you have faith. Faith in nothing?

Or am I origami, elegance for your pocket, folded and crumpled like my

Dreams, and just as pretend as the motives in your head?

My state is a virgin, but it’s far from my state of mind.

Reach in and sow the seeds of a broken heart and broken sunshine,

False smiles become real in the silver heart of a mirror.

Origami swan, caught in the flames of your faith. Faith in nothing?

Now there’s a key where my mouth once was.

Hanging my tears on the moonlight-you’ll never have to be disgraced by them, at least.

Fold me just the way you want me be. The swan has no voice to complain.