absurdity
I’d tare my lungs apart in a harrowing scream.
I’d rub my fists sore, worn out with suffering.
I’d grit my teeth together and splinter the enamel.
I’d scatter the pages of a likeness;
of an illusory novel.
just to break into you.
vulnerability
I’ll revel in this reclusion
isolate myself from false conclusions
and to think that the only pusher,
you,
were my uneven illusion.
lack of character
burdened by your intrusion
I choke on my own confusions
and put myself out to infusion
as you remain..
an unaffected allusion
fiction
reality is as transparent and primary
as you and me could be
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