garden of eden

if you rip my head open,

you will see:

whimpers of uncertainty,

moans of fear,

screams of emptiness.

but not here.

not when i look around and 

the calm would ebb through me,

like a prayer

wishing and wanting 

for flowers to grow from my stomach

and bubble out of my mouth.

not here,

not when i can finally, finally, close my eyes

and the depth of my thoughts

would soak my feet,

wet my limbs,

drown my lungs with ash.

not here.

not when i can sigh

and my tongue will not

twist

and pull

and burn from blasphemy.

no.

this is peace.