his gloved hand reaching veiled indifference death of a stolen voice crushing, squeezing
and in that tear, everything broke every shard of pain, every loss the losses yet to come her voice, her heart caught
his exit, his entrance stars in solemn shades countdown in pink orbs we, burning out suns commencing solitude
The touch that spans length and difference I feel the distance that he holds captive in heart and… one reach, one touch
my heart has rooms that sigh filled with dust of disuse, of mis… Waking world
I list their names on my heart Count them... ad nauseum, infinity… They, who sew my shroud. I list their names on my heart They, who released it
fallible fallen features flawless foes feel, feel, feel formulated
She walked the raised concrete streets, built from the backs of someone whom she didn’t know. She walked the raised concrete streets, surrounded by creatures of origin. The rain cascade...
base of an eggshell in a portrait of painting she is pure canvas had I been a painter she would direct turpentine
The metaphorical heart Burnt in frozen grasp As the stale air, travels, labored far from memories, moments of horror caught
it is a numbing a piercing of the proverbial heart with aching, dull shard a cold depth swallowing lungs contract, fluid-filled
eyes awaken, asleep. I dream the taste of purple I dream the touch of you. I dream of tall grass fields on my… shuddering in magnificent breath.
She saw them fishing poles in hand, walking fro… Fingers, gnarled, crippled with the passing of age. The skin around their eyes, a cany…
yes... a million times over, I sai… to him, to them to everyone, to no one I gave pieces of me Perhaps
He speaks with a purpose that dema… with soft, soliloquy of word to sh… the emulsification, the blood of b… and women carrying the weight of m… Storyteller. Anthropologist.
