my old religion

the fall is gradual: claws retract, friends pull back, eyes hang a little lower. truths shift slowly, losing faces like marble to the winds at the end of the world. alarms last longer, I ask for more sleep. and the words keep blurring out of reach. my grip slips and what I knew of language seems to matter less with every monstrous thought. what once was a weapon now crafts a cage. nesting in a sleepy trap of toys I used to own.

I plug at the keys and perform understanding. losing sense I play my best to save face. their thought counts for something. the pixels glaze my spirit, costing every other second. focus is a shelf I lost the shoes to reach. the same can be said for former concerns beyond the body I bear. attention can't be held; I watch compassion melt like ice in my hands. I cry my prayers into the payphone with nobody on the other end. someone's dog barks at the ocean. do I miss my old religion?

last night I felt your laugh against my neck. we dance and play like we did at the start; warm and lacking any space between. you say you miss me. I ask you to let me dream forever.