I’m digging me a trench
So that I can hide.
What cannot touch me,
Is what was never here in the first place
And I listen as I work
For the prayers unsaid
The silence a golden opportunity
To whisper my own reconciliations.
All of this right before I feel you calling me,
Pulling me back into oblivion.
But I can wait;
wait very patiently
for the unveiling
that binds us here
because that’s our game.
Just as soon as I remember it,
It will be gone.
Like everything else that has come by me
I’ve inscribed it on my tongue.
And then washed it away with the dirty water
That you’ve poured over me.
Not that I don’t enjoy your attention,
But I must wait
For a better time comes
Soaring on wings to take me away.
So what must we become?
Are we to put aside our game,
or are we to respond to the fame
that comes with our shame?
You know that you can’t have me,
and yet here I am.
But are we not all tools,
of someone else, as it is?
I’ve forgotten once again,
What it means to be human.
So I wait.
