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Life detaches |
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much less loved |
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a taste familiar |
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but watered down |
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and each day passes |
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into the next |
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like television |
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flickering unseen. |
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I breathe |
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but I don't often think about it |
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anymore |
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its become a habit |
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those embers fragment |
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that fire was |
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just a fracture |
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in the ice. |
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Do you hear me? |
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Can you hear me? |
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Do you hear a voice from my side? |
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sleepwalking |
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and poetry |
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fills an empty room |
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with science broken |
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and confused |
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and my desire... |
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becomes a pacifier |
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I need to feel |
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alive & awake. |
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Do you hear me? |
|
Can you hear me? |
|
Do you hear a voice from my side? |
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sleepwalking |
|
something aging |
|
in the water |
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in the damage |
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to my soul |
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the wishing fire |
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is still alive |
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and I think his heartbeat |
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will not die |
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how can I give |
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anymore of my life |
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away... |
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Do you hear me? |
|
Can you hear me? |
|
Do you hear a voice from my side? |
|
sleepwalking |
