Primitive

Talk and chatter with those hands.
Coarse and harsh in winter.
Teeth as marked as coffee cups.
Spitting out a fraction of a truth,
that you find in confusion.
Bless the wine and sign in time.
Propagate delusion.
Your bones weigh like sugarcane.
Eyes as large as saucers.
Drinking in the world once more.
A heightened state, licking the eyelids.
Hyperbolic antibiotic kisses travel up your neck.
That flash and capture. Printed for a new era.
Residing in memory, only for a second.
Locked inside a screen.
Assuming the algorithms will take you there.
And keep you safe.
But there’s fire on the horizon.
A progress that has yet to be found.
Pulling out of those snow drifts.
Ripping out honeycombed bricks of the world.
You bought the future, by selling the past.
Waiting for the ice age below.
Listening for such silence.

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Beneath

Beneath the truth, that sets you free.
Lies a fragile world of intimacy.
That falls and climbs like a startled bird.
It’s talked about, but never heard.
For at its heart, is a hidden gold.
Where secrets die, and the truth is told.
And where that bird of love can fly.
A connection of trust that lives and thrives.