The Mythical

Orijinal

I turned my back on the mythical.

But the wolves did come that summer and spun me in tight circles.

And now my mother cools me in the dead of night.

She said I'd opened my mind to beasts and smoke and strange lies.

I'd opened it too wide.

So I went to the mountains when I was able.

And horror did rise up within, that good kind of terror that raises you.

And I acquired that unsettling internal fear which comes to those who run more than feel ecstatic places, for nothing ever happens here anymore.

Not so.

But I can see you speaking, so sweet and hollow.

Around these parts they say the boy who hide tails and lived alone.

I think I will go with him to some place I can trail off, and I will better myself while he leads.

I am quiet and ready and calm, for nothing ever happens here anymore.

I can run.

I can.

Dark man who leads me, leads me to scarred places, I will jump for you.

I still call for you.

Swallow on my shoulder, whispering these soft words.

I'm sorry

I touched you.

I could never un-you.

Boy, you surround me when I am sleeping.

I never would wake if you kept holding my shoulder in that way you do, way you do, way you do, way you do, way you do.