The consummation of
sorrow & regret
of impulse & blind intent,
the attempt
to escape
makes the mistake
of believing that things we leave behind
will somehow change
or else disappear completely
when finally we
return:
the
gentle susurration
of bad-faith held
to itself & nothing else,
excuses
running too thin;
the hideous birth
of conjoined twins,
who want only to be loved,
& are as beautiful
as they are ugly,
just like us.
