There is something that I want so badly that I am terrified to even mention it in a sentence.
Because saying it forces a crash into reality.
And if it is real; it can ruin.
If it is real, the world can do what it wants with my something.
The world can destroy or manipulate or tangle or distort or change.
The desire is so strong that simply speaking the words provides the possibility of spoil.
Words have power.
Words burn buildings.
To speak the words creates an adversary. An adversary my something needs not.
I have to contain the conversation. I have to quiet the noise.
Because I’m the only thing that is safe.
Even if my something isn’t safe. Even if what I want might kill me. I’ll die one day. And everything will turn to food for worms.
But I am speaking the words. I’m speaking of death.
So that I feel alive.