Distracting Still Waters

Harmony in their existence,
they cry out for me to lead them
to the gallows and swim
in human filth.
But the tides will turn,
and I am their filth,
stripped to bone,
I am their hate, their innocence, their folly.
I have led them to their being and hung myself,
in that place.
I am not love,
I am an abstraction, or rather,
distraction.
I am not you,
but I am inside you.
I had made love to you,
on a Persian rug and sucked the poison
from your soul.
I have healed you of the beast
that brought you to me.
Birthed in the precious waters of moments,
but I am your leech,
who abandoned the excess and drinks only the life.
I am me, but I am not me,
a dream within your dream,
not a reality.
But with a fire that burns for all time,
I dance around it,
the mourning of your death.
With charms of resurrection,
dripping sour blood from my tongue.
I am bones, imprisoned in muscle,
in skin.
Hear my fatal yelps as I collapse within.
I am your mistake,
your one, only regret.
In those moments when your roof collapsed,
I passed those roses to you.
I am amnesia,
a glance, a tombstone, a relic,
antiquated youth that guessed the age.
I am your hurt,
trickling down between your thighs,
euphoric cries.
I am the mirage,
in your desert of life,
there but not there,
I wait on receding lines, you will never touch.
Yet I am still....
alive.