What I Do Not Want beam

What I Do Not Want

Shelves. I can’t bear the weight of what I have sitting out in front of me photographs facing me visually tracing me then and what I’m not now.

I want us to ruin something sacred.

Why do I want that? Then what?

What do I think will happen when I go down the same road I’ve gone down before end up in the same place as every other turn has taken me, there’s no one making me. But I’ve decided again

I want us to ruin something sacred.

In doing so feel the votive divinity like a tight little glove like the grip is real or at least feel again

Now I just smell the smoke of the lie. Why do I want this like I’m intended to be burnt as an offering or a symbol the fulfilment of a vow and the vow is this:

I could never be sacred without you

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