all we really wanted

The truths you refuse to believe,

The coldness that seeps straight down into the middle
of the marrow of your bones

(Call me tomorrow, please)

On your knees; in back-alleys; in front of a priest;

Apparently, confessions were too much for us
but at least now we aren't mandated
to lie on cue- for many, it seems,
confessing was when
sin was committed

Anyway: the things you think you say, then immediately
think: "shit did I just say that out loud?"

Walking in the middle of a cloud, smoking a stogie,
blowing the white smoke into the center of all that
whiteness

In outer space my crippled legs won't matter anymore,
I will be weightless, I will become a colourless
ghost, I will become a nun, I will become
the host of a terrible disease

Everything will be spreading, multiplying,
then dividing into infinity (repeatedly)

It will be like I am in the womb again; which, if
I’m not mistaken, is all we really
wanted