There is only one wolf…
The story of the two wolves
is an old Cherokee legend
twisted from the gnarled fingers
of the glittering
ancient mind.
But if every honeybee
is blessed with a cursed stinger
why do we sentence our Shadow
selves
to swarm for eternity
inside?
I believe there is a fatal
monster
that is silently lurking,
underneath my iron bones
and in my
whistling
breath.
Encasing all my forbidden thoughts
conniving and disconcerting
in the frigid doldrums
of a living death.
The chilling ice freezes
my tender skin,
while my eyes glaze over
Conceding to piteous pride.
I no longer recognize
a quindecennial of sin
mistaking my inner demons
for angels
in disguise.
I have grown infatuated
with the concealed corruption
plaguing my paltry soul
till it becomes withered and bare.
I long
to experience
the ultimate transformation
that relieves me of remorse
And rids me of despair.
The world is paralyzing
and so I’ve become desensitized
its single touch stripped me clear of
all my virginity.
So while there are two wolves inside
i’m fighting to survive
Even at the cost
Of my own humanity
Spilled Ink 