Now a scratched off surface.
Luck comes to an end.
Only a few more months to uphold mystery.
Yet now there's no actuality from which to defend.
There's no reality, yet there's no pretend.
The empty days are washed away.
I'm seeing the dark lines, splitting the light filling everyday scenes.
Groceries, trips to the park, time at the beach, avenues lined with trees.
My scream in a lonely place reads like a choice made by me.
No form could find me, to sit me down to lectures, to wisdom, to teach.
All the efforts to reform, all the rectories of conceit, all the hands that tied, now victories of defeat.
What is my gender, without any chance at connection to speak?
The loss of lust, nature writhes, sullen in defeat.
When it crashes it hits all with no division, the wall of conscience, time wears the false strength, the values bore, the values eat themselves, everything you built of your temple, seems to devour you.
They won't know until before they go, an early witness to the riddle you never wanted to be asked.
Heaven know it has to be this time, it's my life again, for only an instance, at the last.