Babel

Nearly all the world
Crumples at your feet
And you attack me.
What can I provide that you can't?

Why lean into
And over
The dike that retains
My self-loathing
Now take your finger out of the dam-thing!

Your feigned stupidity only makes things worse.

Sure I know what power words hold
But if you won't leave me be
I will return to the graceless scar
That is my inoculation
My transfusion from love's enlivening pains
How could suffering be so useful, Mister Gibran?

True,
I say many things
But you cannot hold me to them.

Foolish, that you fling your faerie-self upon me
A holistic whore
Bent on destroying body, mind, and soul.

Can you continue?
Still, my vagaries and vulgarities intertwine
Like our legs.

Like our thoughts.

Like our destinies.

Or so I thought.