Hidden Agenda

For three and a half years my insides dwelled inside themselves

attempting to dig through all the thousand layers

And on the thirty seventh of the thirty cycle

my one inside broke a pinhole through

and led you by a miniscule light into a light filled bedroom

And for a minute my skin turned transparent

and you saw all the fighting turmoil within the grounds

of a land of many tunnels

of blood filled tunnels and breathing heaps

of purple masses

And when you blew into the lips of pink on ivory

the messy turned to water and you scrubbed away the muck

and you saw the cage of twinkles

who had lived in me for four years and who beckoned for your fingers

to unlock and find the key

And so we met inside the blue moonbeam with all the other hidden campaigners

and we were sucked into the holes in the sky

and within them no one saw us

yet we saw eachother fully

each vitamin, each scar, each neon bleeping lie

And our bodies moved together

unison swimmers

naked as newly rained air

And my insides, inside, inside myself exploded

and all the twinkles burst into stars

And we cherished the sight

like a blind man would

till the green mirrored sea swallowed the night

and my twinkles moped their way back to the cage

and sealed over with golden glue

And we flew from our moonbeam and we ballooned down

to our lifeless reality

captured by our landlords, our gold turned brassy, our bones roughened

and our rooves shaggy

back onto our hooks for another hundred years