Hunger

I walk among the shadows like a thief,

While ice and iron settle in my blood.

I’ve spent a lifetime perfecting the mask,

Pretending every thought of you is holy,

While burying the hunger in the deep,

And praying for the quenching of the fire.

But how can I extinguish such a fire,

When every stolen glance makes me a thief?

The roots of this obsession run too deep,

A chemical rebellion in the blood.

I try to name this longing something holy,

But feel the cracking of my careful mask.

I’m terrified of what is under the mask,

The creature born of gasoline and fire.

I know the things I want are far from holy;

I am the liar and the silent thief.

I feel the pulse of treason in my blood,

A secret current moving in the deep.

You are the siren calling from the deep,

Demanding that I finally drop the mask.

You want to see the fever in my blood,

And watch me be consumed within the fire.

You make a criminal out of every thief,

And desecrate the things I once called holy.

There is a version of us that is holy,

Existing in a place that’s just as deep.

But here, I am a common, desperate thief,

Hiding my true face behind a mask.

I’m dancing on the embers of a fire,

That’s boiling the logic in my blood.

I cannot change the color of my blood,

Or pretend that this corruption isn’t holy.

I am the wood, the striker, and the fire,

A vast and terrifying canyon in the deep.

I’ll spend my life behind this painted mask,

And live the lonely legacy of a thief.

I am the thief of all that’s meant to be holy.

I drop the mask and sink into the deep,

To find the blood that’s fueled by every fire.