i hold the matches
minus one
memories behind plywood, broken glass, and chain-link
a cage, to define what is inside relative to the world
providing certainty and detailed meaning
one-sided expectancy, observing a holiday but withholding its honor
men becoming monsters fighting monsters who were men once
unaware of humility on the verge of denial
existence in a vacuum, lost in space, and wishing for time in surplus
never spending it wisely
excessively earning deficits for someone else to pay
forever waiting for eternity and yesterday
prone to check the references and keep receipts
a habit of conditions for agreements that no longer serve me
comfort comes afforded by routine, discipline, and daring to have a dream
moonlighting, from macabre to duplicitous
innocence marauded by the mentality of a mob
living for bogies and bullseyes
from opposite sides of a widening bisectual chasm
sharing only eye contact
and the intimate warmth from the burning bridge between us
i hold the matches, minus one
in his hands, the empty jug of gasoline
About the Creator
⸘jason alan‽
:::WARNING:::
i am only responsible for what i say,
not for what you understand.
you may learn to be charmed by my [secret‽] discontent,
or you may not.
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