The Hunt

The Hunt 

I’ve wasted countless hours

cultivating self deprecating guile.

Forget the temperance of my thoughts

that vile voices seek out to devour

I lost them years ago.

Page upon page of recognition

judiciously absorbing those

strafes of tempered rage

You are safe here

You are safe
I won’t erase you

I don’t care if it does.

but if any tongue should wonder

as my veins are veiled in rust

As I sear and etch my flesh

as I turn my bones to dust  

my grave will not address you

thus your lips will softly shut

Perhaps my mind is failing

and that is why I seek

this poisoned repetition

that’s enabling the weak

Perhaps it’s a distraction

that layers rife distractions

I so madly drag across my skin

and peel beneath my throat

I’ve gifted hours

to cultivate self deprecating guile.

Forget the temperance of my thoughts

that vile voices seek out to devour

I lost them years ago.