That newness that pulsates within me
is the quandary that begs you,
replace me with what you once knew.
Lift high your hands, send praise
then beat your chest with contempt-
one can’t evade quandaries.
That ambiguity that sits upon your lips
has no fear; is it remiss?
Its simpleness is just a glimpse of
don’t beckon me
for a feeling you feel.
These thoughts are not allowed to be your own.
I went for the slaughter.
Suppress the only gift
I ever really knew.