things are hurting

between the hum & throb, the railway lines have not a thing to say.

i had listened once, to the wheels fucking the tracks, to the trains pulsing towards & away from me. i tried to gauge the weight & hurting.

the journey & the destination

the words & the breathing

i miss our mouth...

there has been a death, my legs, bent open like a pair of scissors. clutching the pillows like a lover, clutching the edge of the bed like grim death.

it is five past midnight, morning

mourning the passing of light

grieving for the heat i had once cursed

missing our voice which i had carried with me....constantly.