Draw four cardinals upon your spirit and navigate toward me.

Let the procession begin-

Hands in jars and jars in hand.

How delightful when one wishes to share anything they find valuable.

Led by a rope of cotton candy that never breaks, we peruse each other’s mind like an issue of Vogue.

Allow me to test your hand as I would my first sip of hot tea…apprehensive and expectant of a smile.

You stand above me on the pedestal I have placed for you.

My eyes will be ever vigilant, should you fall, I will catch you. Should you falter, I will pretend I did not see the flush of your cheeks.

Does my mind return to you by way of fondness or compulsion?

Watch how I clutch your memory like a trinket of happiness, a pylon of virtue.

Search my diary for a mention of your name and you will not find it. My jealousy wouldn’t allow me to share even the thought of you in ink on paper.

Repentance comes in the static. Motionless and full of trepidation your aura brings a hunger for evolution.

Forge a file for my teeth so that I cannot consume you, though I may.

Shall this corpse belong to tomorrow where my spirit can no longer be contained, dripping from the crevices cracking from disuse?

What is the weight of your morality? I fear mine stretches to infinity.

Call it cruelty-but I know better.

Reformation is blade. Liberation has teeth. Security has fences.

Can we rise unfettered? Must we prosecute each iterance we have been or ever will be? Will you applaud for me?

I’m certain you will, as you paint each of my names upon my vertebrae to live eternally upon flesh.

Let silence be the language between us with an implication of forgiveness and acquiescence.

I don’t wish to carry regret. I do not wish to beg for mercy. I only wish to answer to the me inside you.

Fredrick Watts (Trimbodin)

2 min read

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