A Very Grey Matter

Damn Truth,
Have I not murdered you enough?

Still you return, shadowing my every move,
Whispering your wispy wings into my wire
-taps left to tripdrips in the tediumtimes

Knowledge and unKnowledge
Desparate search for doubles;
No need to look over my shoulder,
Not without a pinch of salt or two in my left

I want carnal possession of the ultimate,
While erasing all my personal carnal possession of the penultimate,
Me n Kurtz could do with one more reality.
To deal with a fearsome desirous ravening need
For my hand to be held,
By anyThing

Still Truth knocks me down from behind,
In order to prevent me from (over)taking her outstretched hand in front;
Stuck in the middle

Behind,
Truth is the kitten I drown in my backyard under the cover of darkness,
The threat knocking on my chest,
Leaving me gasping with these truth-addiction pains in my heart,
With these fears of deeds splayed before dapple skies,
Less
Truth comes knocking like pigs
Rootings in muck breaking down my door,
Early morning light, nazi’s trucks around unnecessary
Only seventeen, a beautifully incomplete boy-man,
Hoping to never be complete, with holes from howitzers,
Self-inflicted

Ahead,
Ever-lasting tag,
Too slow to ever get you before base, and allie-allie-in-free,
But you never come out for me,
Unwound the veils of a very old, very dead man stretched out on really new trees,
Found the threads connected into my very own grey matter.

But you never come out for me,
Despite prayers and pillaging,
Despite fire and fighting,
Despite fear and friends,
Despite danger and darkness,
Despite sin and shame,
Despite monsters and murderers,
But you never come out for me,
Thusly have I been called Morningstar.
And thusly, have I murdered you, Truth,
Yet still for you I quest.