delusions

The Mouth of Meaning

I.

I swallowed a question,

I felt it move like a second heartbeat.

It had teeth.

II.

I asked god why

we were made,

He pointed,

at the meat between my teeth.

I had forgotten I was eating myself.

III.

The horizon opens it’s mouth,

Birds mistake it for instruction,

Trees mistake it for permission,

We mistake it for hope.

IV.

We spend our lifes,

building mouths,

large enough to swallow the universe,

then die,

before tasting anything.

V.

Perhaps that’s what life is.

A wound inventing a reason,

to remain open.