trojan desire

Desire seems to have somewhat
of a trojan semantics.
It installs, instills
yearns where there was numb
and puts enemies where there is
cowardice, henceforth
the conundrums
of the doldrums.
Thus the fear and the sitting
quiet and shut in the dark.
Cross your fingers,
and hope your enemies don’t see you
and slit your throat.

Let me fabricate wooden hopes.
In the fashion of a chronic
merlot loner.
I myself will place them
on my door at night,
like he who poisons himself.
Care to share?

An elaborate ruse or
a simpleton’s joke, who cares?
All is fine as long as the spear
is sharp and the ribcage exposed.

Thing is, enemies have broken the gate.
But they are here for your own good.
So you perish and raise. Fly.
Or submit. Be the lackluster spoils.