Making Me

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breaker of skies

~

am i so well made

i need nothing more

to be whole?

my foundations so solid

i need never inspect the skeleton

to know

no bones are broken?

my work completed

before i can craft a design

that best suites my asthetic?

~

surely a great master

carved out your visage

i see his intent in the way you laugh

eyes that squeeze out stardust

my own tears follow after

oh, how he must have intended

for those streams to converge

a great milky river

for my laments to drown in

~

it is your perfection

that leads me to question

if this is all i’m meant to be

if we are given everything we need

the answer within us

a lifetime of manna

what then was the point

in giving me feet

able to chase down my next meal?

hands

able to imitate

what his own did in you?

~

if all that’s needed to thrive

is exist

then let these eyes of mine

rot in their sockets

rather than see

what else he made

beyond my reach

my head fill with sand

than imagine

what could be

my tongue to ash

than voice this desire

to change

~

if any of me

is anything like him

the one that painted the night above

using the leftover palates to paint your skin

let this artistic vision be realized

these eyes, feet, tongue

pointless

unless these hands have the strength

to rip the clouds out of the sky

let the world below see

heaven’s bridge

that i might one day be worthy

of basking in your starlight

~

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