Untitled

Untitled

A secret is a fear-
a delicious fear,
that boils in the chest
and wants to be let out;
treasure from a sunken ship
our chests-
holding inside
insidious,
cavernous
holds of fogged motives.

Please let it out
a key it has not-
but words.
Telling it:
chest opens.
A tidal wave of
from the cavity
both releasing
and than tying:
to both the posts.

Oh, the bonds,
why'd it open,
they're only tighter
now.
And struggle,
and force
and it's on top of you again.
And it's pleasurable to relish
and it's pleasurable to deny
But hold that- I have my own.

-Matthew Koutzun