do you want to know these bones?
where do you think these bones have been?
have you ever thought about these bones?

that is what makes you –
and expert in telling lies
half truths and falsehoods –
they are your holy trade

they appeared to be so scared
as if they had –
suffered some extreme violence
and sunday beef
has never tasted right with silence

if this is a pain inside
the wish –
to go back to a time –
when you felt your were alive

the written word,
will come without truth
it will have a furrowed brow
and it will search for a roof

i rejected their thoughts
i rejected the idea,
that i am akin to my father
i rejected that

i was not a rejected child
but i understand,
what it means,
not to be part of the family narrative

it never looked –
anything less –
than clumsy
as it tried –
to connect

i am the constant threat
to a world,
that reeks of death

sometimes we do it when we are lost
we mistake people for maps
and when we are thirsty,
for a tap,