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What iron voice is this?
My tongue of ice impales me
on the remnants of a reverie
and I am helpless to resist.
Defined by Our madness edges,
We are a self-leveling paradox
(made of instability and aftershocks
and crippling fear that possesses.)
These secrets I've given freely
become ammunition in your mouth
and so I am filled with doubt...
The ghost in this house is me
and my hopes for a sea change
are not truly lost, only hidden.
As for Us, we must be forbidden
from speaking Our truths into chains.
This unauthorized heartbreak
must not be allowed to persist!
Is there a way we can untwist
The words, the meaning to unmake?
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info@ajoyfulpassage.com
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