Stagnant emotion –
That’s what pushes
this unyielding pen,
while your parabola of intransigency,
this unwillingness to feel,
only fuels it along.
The moon draws near to the horizon –
its asomatous life highlighting this
thistly landscape.
Quietly,
my mind swims in
the dreams of conversations from a
long-dead fantasy.
Neither friends nor lovers,
our hearts still resounded with understanding,
flooding the senses with a desire to believe.
I wonder –
What does one say to the apoptotic soul,
those no longer prepared to see?
But this painful wishing, this longing to
escape into these veil-guarded worlds,
only smothers my own lingering vitality.
After all,
you were never real.
"Your room...it's CLEAN!!!"
"I prayed to God...and...it happened...but...where's my million dollars and horse!? Damn it!"
