Is love anything but attatchments and habits
and remedy for alone?
Am I so drawn out of myself that I can never
find my way back in?
God help me that pathetic.
I should infuriate at waste.
Jehovah called David his beloved while David took Bathsheba.
Solomon was the greatest king but had more concubines
than chariots and horses.
I take pride in monogamy.
Shoulders like granite bearing.
I am confusion left on it's own to bury deep
in a hill of stale dry crumbs,
trails of ants leading down into busy mines.
I lunged ahead for the best.
I fell, alone for the empty.
Many come and go but I am one who is fearless.
Not for courage but for weariness and discovery.
You cannot hold me anyway.
You spoke too often to hear.