Poem: Deinon

These wishes,
they are such things,
beyond precious,
priceless and pointless
they breath for us,
pulse beneath the skin, alive,
fantastical and desperate,
the very essence of being, the reason.

These wishes,
they are such things,
wonderful and terrible
they sustain us, eat away at us,
unattainable in reality
they flirt with us, taunt us,
they are too loud voices
in silent churches,
they are incongruous.

These wishes,
they are such things.