Kendall owens
Revelations
If I was a moth,
I’d have wings of straw
and a little, black, breakable body.
Thing is:
Straw burns.
I’d have to be wary of flames.
Like moth to flame
Like mountain to dust
You are dust
and to dust you shall return.
Upon my return, I was greeted by the glare
of sunlight
reflected off tin roofs.
And I couldn’t help but think:
A stack of needles
hiding a piece of straw.
Lullaby
I don’t want what I want.
What I want is a need
To please, to be,
To discover the lines that edge between apathy and
The simplest sensation of desire.
For love without agency
Is the deepest sentiment of remorse
That can be felt by the human soul,
Limited only by
Imagination creasing at the seams
Like origami worn thin.
These dreams deferred
Wisp away like feathers caught in the wind,
Leaving behind the skeleton of Fate
Where she meets in unholy union
With Coincidence.
Coincidently, the perpetrator
Of the divine
Perpetually mourning in his golden tomb
Has shed his fading light
Upon the macabre scene
Of empathy stretched
Until it cracks like dough
Or heartstrings,
And this dying warmth alights a spark
That smells like gasoline.