17 September 2012
You act as if you're made of oil, Frictionless and thin. A sheet of plastic gliding past, An empty bag of skin.
No tangled roots or bonds of love, No sense of permanence, Like nothing you could ever do Might have a consequence.
Do you imagine I'm so blind I miss the warning signs? That all you do when drapes are drawn Are absent from my mind?
Do you presume forgiveness in Advance of every sin? Perhaps you think once you forget, These deeds have never been.
But you are not the apparition That you wish to be. Your actions carve a churning wake Into reality.
You can't escape, erase, deny Or mitigate the past. These things you hope will disappear Are all that really last.
Substance • Opuss № I