eighth-grade poetry ringing through the rafters of a high school gymnasium

[vestiture]

eighth-grade poetry ringing through the rafters of a high school gymnasium-

so this shudder of faith
is the pretext
for every hour stuck freefalling.
i wait and call and starve and cringe
for the tart taste of your infant embrace.
you never answer
the call
as i torture the fluttering bastards within my chest.

you never think
to consider me
or how time does not heal
the leper
rotting
in its skin.
it runs both ways.
i won't turn away.
all i want to say
is that there's something worth saying without hesitating
to guess.

it'll get better they swear
but the truth is i'm giving too much again;
so tired, so drained.
but i feel alive,
when we share the sky.
it's always raining when you stare
at simple horizons without sense of being aware.

and i wanna align
every second of silent crescendos
driving the dead armies.
please decide to deny
that you never felt a fucking thing
cause i need this to to see if there's something worth fighting for.