I am writing this for you:
Only you.

Yet that petty word still manages
To creep into its own mouth

It sits there, this rapacious toad,
Glutton of mucus-flesh and cartilage;

It wishes you were awake.
It still looks at you and sees itself.

I still look at you and see what I saw before.
It won’t change; there’s no incongruity.

And all the milk and honey of nirvana
Will turn sour.

“Are you a child?” This one had
Smarter answers than I ever did; I
Only knew to scream one phrase:

“As simple as ash! As simple as ash!
My body is as simple as ash!”

-

Snow melts over those words; you
Digress what you can’t relate and
Find it’s all for the better.

You’re losing your faith;
Its caught like a fly in a web,
Like crumbs in your goatee.

A glance:-- little more tells me
How lost and unsuspecting you are

You rarely saw the moon shed; did
The black sun just smile?

Is the world ending? If it is
You’ve been left in the meridian
Holding handfuls of useless puzzle pieces.

You want to make a difference
And so take your chisel to the ice;

You thaw the preservation in hopes
That a tyrant will let you fill his cup.

-

You don’t need to speak;
I’ll tell you what a dramatic hero
You are.

As if drama saved us any lives.