I want you to put your hands upon me. To rake the world across my skin. I want you to remind me of a pain I used to know. So well. I miss it. Miss its power to turn the screaming off. I miss the iron taste that reminded my fear what was truly to be feared. You’d think I’d be used to it by now, the reek of failure. As familiar as the hunger in my bones and the passive violence on my breath. You’d think I’d recognize my own fading and anticipate the conflagration that comes after but oh the blinkers they addict and become habit. The moments, shining in faux grace, will last forever. The present is the only future and the past will not inform, the world, myself, nothing is cyclical. There is no reason to worry. This is only a momentary lapse, I have fallen, tumbling from a celestial height, but it’s the last time I will fall. My tongue is swift when the topic comes my mind is fey and oh how it lies. There will be no resentment I can go back forgiveness will come.