the private moon (how i am goddamned tired of only reflecting that which i want to consume)

in the private moments when the clouds obscure the sky the moon shines back to the sun with fierce abandon without the prying eyes casting dispersions on the wan glow in the all encompassing reflection of pure adoration

on those nights i stare up at the clouds with a deep sorrow an egg in my chest as the need to give way to this cellular level of need shakes me so hard i can’t tell if it has cracked or if my tenuous grasp on reality has finally shimmed itself off the edge to tumble into the ever slobbering maw of eternity understanding the lycanthropic need to rend the flesh suit to scraps unleashing the avatar of hunger that claws the inside of my skull leaving shavings of ivory to litter the granite dust from the edifices carved for every time i haven’t screamed i love you because the words swing on my uvula unsaid even if i send them like radio signals to your aortic antenna i am the goddamned moon in refrain unable to do you justice even in my wan talent because in comparison to your sheer magnificence i am just a dead satellite orbiting an orb of deep blue desire chattering in the heart of this freezing fire that consumes my every cell at the thought of simply holding your fucking hand

in the private moments when the clouds obscure the sky the moon shines back to the sun with fierce abandon without the prying eyes casting dispersions on the wan glow in the all encompassing reflection of pure adoration

2 thoughts on “the private moon (how i am goddamned tired of only reflecting that which i want to consume)

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