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Description
Change
has a taste,
like the strangest bitter fruit
at the back of my tongue.
It speaks words
that I alone would not speak,
projective from its necessity;
its echos, timeless, need me,
it charges with dire purpose,
Change.

Like a covert theif,
It tugs off my clothes
as I sleep.

With the tend'rest touch,
It holds me by the throat
until I beg for its slowing,
helpless, whispering,
susurration of
"stop stop stop".

Change
leaves me an abject coward,
one who hates fruit
and language
and love.
One who longs
for the future and

More
Stupid
Change.

Description
Change
has a taste,
like the strangest bitter fruit
at the back of my tongue.
It speaks words
that I alone would not speak,
projective from its necessity;
its echos, timeless, need me,
it charges with dire purpose,
Change.

Like a covert theif,
It tugs off my clothes
as I sleep.

With the tend'rest touch,
It holds me by the throat
until I beg for its slowing,
helpless, whispering,
susurration of
"stop stop stop".

Change
leaves me an abject coward,
one who hates fruit
and language
and love.
One who longs
for the future and

More
Stupid
Change.