Union

Drunken ramblings of my former self,
Tell me,
I’m not ready.

Careful plans, exact precision,
All for what?
A party?

To celebrate the loss of my identity.

Too late to speak up now.
Guests on their way.
Band on hold.
Photographer watching.
Cake in the back.
Family.
Friends.
Suits.
Dresses.
STOP!

Is it too late?


Contemplating options on my feet of ice.
My plan,
My escape,
My liberation.

I’m out.
The expensive towels are thrown in,
And I’m out.

Running, running,
Must keep running.

As marriage,
The last form of slavery and mutual suicide,
On it’s way,
Looking for me,
And I’m here with you.