Call me by your name for me

I am heard:

Unspoken.

 

I arrive in light of rumor,

To a crowd of post-inquisitive eyes asking:

“Are you Him?”

I refute, refuse, rebel,

But my shadow before me has distributed the rubric,

The True measure of my words, translating:

“I am, I was and tomorrow I shall be.”

The He who is now me, alive without life,

Twists the nether into a boggartous form,

Projected from my listless shell.

The crowdfunded cries for justice bear down  like an insult to Atlas:

Catching me unawares by the time-change.

With fear for the self I leave behind,

I dissipate;

Returning to the ambiguity that swaddles the moon to subsist but not exist,

Feeding off a truth known and un-Known;

A quiet stasis.

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