The Emperor's New Clothes

mashing-lips, needle-tongue, machine's see-saw-stitches
thoughtless words, my word;
after word after word.
steady soulless rhythm:

these dreams
are ragged thoughts,
caught in seams and
jagged knots —
after thought after thought after thought.

a word
is not a thought; a thought is
a person.
and words are nothing but clothes.
oh, Emperor,
you were right —
you were right about those.

still, I
sew. I sew all of these
apologies, I wear them bare and patch the
knees in hopes
that you will someday see
the person that I try
to be but

Emperor, that robe you chose —
I love the way
the garment flows
it's just
as though
your skin were bare your
thoughts disclosed to open
air and oh how well
the fabric fits
you'd almost think you lived
in it

I only wish that
I could see
the shape of it
your Majesty.

I wish that for the price you paid,
I knew a word that might have stayed.

The End

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