Lies

A constellation gathers

After years of isolation

Smoke rises and secret questions

Slither

Assumptions cement

Words speak as if real

.

Swirling

The energies are pressing

Mind murky I feel the pull

To assimilate

To conform

Into rally

Against

.

Tapdancing

On fragile fragments

Avoiding the sword’s blade

Creeping up my throat

Seeking

Sweating

Pushing

Through ancient

Unwanted

Seminality

This

Mediating

Peacekeeper

Says

Nothing

.

A body advances

Challenging

Pries fingers into mouth

Demanding

Demanding yet not

Demanding

But the sword has already retreated

And only goo remains

.

From this puddle

Little perfect dancers assemble

They spin and piroette

On cue

Delivering a grand performance

Both wanted

And reviled

.

No one wants the sword

At least not here

The singular retreats

Satisfied

Kind of

And I slither

With those unsaid tendrils

Pooling

Where a shaft of annihilating

Steel

Was once

Almost

Free