All I have is truth
(and it won't be still)
it seethes and breathes
within me
in a most unsettling way
and you are walking
quite slow towards tomorrow
(It's not wrong to be afraid)
but my name isn't Comfort,
(sorry)
my eyes are not gray.
My presence is a gunshot
stampede startle.
I don't know how to soothe and
smooth away
Some days,
I hardly feel human.
I'm compelled and pressed
squeezing my chest
are the words I try to withhold
all I am is honesty,
bright blue sparks in the electric evening
sunset out of sight
