As We Lay, I Pray For A Rapture


As we lay,

a tear flees each of my eyes

in a cold, prideful

defeat

with each caress of his

breathe against the small

of my

neck. He sleeps

peacefully nuzzled up

against me.

Drawing strength from my consistent,

unwavering love and

support and super-humanity.

As we lay,

I grow closer to

death and I

hope I may soon meet my

maker in a rapture of the over-lovers.

Those of us, who love freely and loudly

while wasting away in silence, restrained

and elegant.

Because I can no longer

fight the sadist within

that controls the functions of my veins,

nor the can I muster the strength to challenge the onslaught

of empty men with open hands,

barren hearts,

hollow spirits and

parasitic,

genocidal ethics of

survival.

As we lay,

I pray for his death

and mine

and yours.

Because we all deserve to live,

someday.

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