watch me

the christ maiden

the virgin locks

me in to remain steadfast

in my righteousness

i know everything

i dare not write verse

but i predict the words of others

i read between the lines on their wrists

i understand them as i understand palms

i see the inside of a thigh there

of a man

of a woman

of a child

i read their veins as a bonus

they lap it up

as i discharge the milk-blue strains
that streak mine

(it is true if it hurts)

the only way to know truth is to let me tell you as i know it

feeling it in my joints in my own swollen skin

charcoal dark from trying

though clarity sits comfortably atop the chaos like a crown of turds

because i know

i know

even when i do not

words evoke or lull the map to a life

i choose

not to follow the narrow or the wide road

no     

me

i fly

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