trap doors

Does a trap door lead to the finest wine; hidden travesty—made for unseeing eyes; empty: as empty is. Precious.  Does closing the door make it, define it, protect…

Is hiding the protection, that someone must have  been meant, must have been destined, must have been chosen. Is avarice forced value…

Trap doors. I walk on. Trap doors. I dance. And the pounding is my past. You’re in there. I captured. And bottles, at the bottom I find you. So drink, drink. And swallow another pill. That lump is pain, that gulp is freedom. Dry drowning. All I have tonight is my spit, this puddle is not disgust. I’m in. Fill. Fill. Fill. Trap doors I will build. I walk atop, accretion of a further bottom. And drop, every drift to sleep is the feeling… falling from my next step. Up. Forward. This mind is a path of rickets. Leafless forest and moonlight gather. As knife edge castings and rip at the cracked earth. Dig, it hides. Lift, dissolve into my outstretched palms. Shiver. The man you seek is shadowless. You might be the one, but it is not mine to show, not mine to uncover, not mine… Im too afraid to meet him in the gallows. You can want, you can be, you can live as the perfect soul for me. Effortless. Free. Harmony. Chosen. But these trap doors, I can’t cherish. I knit my secrets with the spiders, drooped the staircase to a shallow heart, and lost. Floorboards lain to forget, but this creaking follows me. Reminders. Reminders. Music. I pray for deafness, I ask not to find, I say in desperation that I be saved from actualized dreams. You were my black and white, but this house is painted grey from a dying flame.  Disbelief is my God, and no matter how much you want this love, you cant have me.