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Conceit

by GILT

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1.
You think I’d be bitter towards the water for all the times I almost drowned But the measure of a strong swimmer is how long they can stay down No beauty in being crushed beneath, but somehow still so tempting Precious metals pockmarked along my teeth will long outlive my memory It’s only sacred to me I’m an amethyst reflecting the same story folding inwards You don’t see yourself inside me, cursed to not display in mirrors I dream to be the thorn snapped off inside the lion’s paw A legacy of ego death, then dying for nothing at all It’s only sacred to me ‘cause I don’t understand it I see the bottom of everything, wax wings remade ceramic Uncertain trust, readdressed with iron lungs Uncertain trust, circle around again and around again Live in the shadow, but made in the image Give up your only father it’s that inverse religious Slow deathwish, sit on your hands ‘till they’re broke A censer’d disciple, stuck breathing in the smoke But still an unaccounted for gun from the first act Two lovers with no plan, one cash-poor, one cash-strapped No circle unbroken, turn my head Pollock with no frame No borders, no walls, no power passed through a last name Nothing is sacred to me An uncanny resemblance, these crooked teeth Staring into the sun, keep repeating, “I’ve seen You before, I just can’t remember what You look like” Anymore
2.
Pressing ears to open doors Subtle, the teeth are smooth, but the tongue is coarse Lions lined up in row Mouths dripping, eyes wet The hunger pains of old friends Mixed autumn leaves that couldn’t turn sooner Defacing paint but with a lesser sense of humor Carving cherubs in the quiet of my room Grinding down nails, fresh-bit, into the shape of tools 30 pieces as a minimum wage Kids selling rotten fruit and making bootleg tapes Becoming cautionary Did The Right Thing But it didn’t matter anyway Spun from satin, but hardened to casts Arranging shards of myself to be stained into glass Have you grown tired of mending? Have you grown tired of mending just to see yourself break? Spine displaced, waiting to separate Reticent, reticent, reticent! Carcass full, no crawl-space
3.
Two birds collide in midair Who can you tell? Who would believe what you have seen? “Oh no, no, they’re just feathers in the street” Small hollow bones and other baggage Disrupt the rhythm of simple tasks Idle thoughts in traffic: “How long until I admit defeat?” Rose-colored bills Are the least of all my worries Sit still. Self-soothe. Sedated. Black firework display in my head Born again in a hospital gown Evangelical, but not devout Prescribed controlled burn: Pill to mouth Lucid dream on a hostile bench Bent nail to blood-filled sock again Somehow pushing the hook further in Is how you get it out Lilac petals drip through the screen Lost pieces of glass catch the light like rings Heavy scarves made from feathered flesh Use this albatross ‘till there’s nothing but bones left
4.
Left for dead, and when Death came to collect The offering hat passed had very little left in it The devil on your shoulder, palms red, empty handed Unsure of what to do, just hanging around out of habit Like an old dog loyal only to a fault Your neighbor in the next room giving confession to a wall No mention of the victim, just the outline of the weapon: “A handle carved for holding, and ears open to suggestion” And when you didn’t pick up I was pretty sure That some static machine held your last words No questions, just asking for an answer A jobless tyrant Forever open eyelids I’m in the place with no name again Some bad influences after a job too well done Asking what it all meant Brass said, “Hey man, shit happens” Sand in his eyes so he can’t say what he saw But bullets for medical is state-sanctioned insurance fraud “At least the enemy won’t hurt anyone else” Well there was another civilian casualty When he walked into the woods by himself If I’m a part of something greater I want to know the other parts by their first name
5.
Prosthetic fingertips for human hands Help carve the wood into one of three shapes Each kill is set in frame the same way Streetlights all tethered to the same clock My memory’s color cordoned off They let me see the body, but still diffused the face The orange glow an anesthetic haze Serif seraphim There’s thorns around red text again Mother may I, Mother may I Just try to forget? Tongue to the wound Foil to the canvas Metal taste, dressing damage Plead, “Chase after me, Trophy Hunter!” The illuminated manuscript of current day White tee shirt, phone-photo-printed face Each kill is set in frame the same way That man with the stable of anemic steeds Says he collects, but ends up taking everything A faith informed by entropy that won’t shake He fades into the glow of orange again More ego contaminates Wax fingerprints melting off of the candlestick The midnight oil burns Gross obsession with symmetry Grading pounds of flesh on a curve, not objectively Gross obsession with symmetry A savior will judge but a captor can pity me

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released May 6, 2022

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