I am in flat packed space; rolling with disregard, I touch no sides and lift nothing. The deeps are dead, they have no name. Just stacked and slipped away places to forget. So I seep under - slip into the mute. Short starts with no happenings; other than the usual tears on hiatus. Choked around something dumb and unconscious. My flight has gone, it no longer lifts or shines. As the house came falling, One minute I was talking; the next I had thrown myself away. MB
No comments:
Post a Comment