I thought I would escape death,
if I loved you well and long enough.
I would answer to his pride; conceal myself,
within the monuments of fleshy deceit.
I saw our kitten curl into question
marks that defined my helplessness.
How could you love me when I betrayed
by my selfishness your plan for immortality?
I had always tried to be good, being afraid:
You said I only wished to avoid living.
I knew I had failed to provide illusion.
I stepped outside the circle of applause,
I joined the cowards in the audience.
They were transformed into painted, wooden faces.
I wouldn’t mind much consenting to die.
I refuse the list of trivialities; the stakes
always high for those who would philosophize.
I will not accept slavery as my model
for spiritual and material transcendence.
Religion is anathema to God made manifest.
Now that we have fouled the bed of marriage, let’s not
pamper our vulnerabilities with relationships.
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