You smoke at all the strongest times.
Cigarettes write essays on where your self goes –
two directions, dark and holy, uncontrolled.
You know how to pray:
thickly, and without regret.
Sexual but regal.
Each osmosis captures more completely than the last.
Never meant to see through mirrors,
distractions serve hors d’oeuvres and slowly seal your fate.

And yet, you wait.
Furiously loyal in denial.
Immortal as to know the truth.
Unstable enough to care.

A blend of psyches holds you down.
A human grips your sacred heart.
He says, I can’t go on.

But the lights let go.
It’s all circumstantial in the dark.

Take pity, because oh, it sears your throat when you say it.
Spit on salvation. Have no shame.
Forget your two names.
A dirty angel waits who will welcome them both.

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