The words we wait to hear
never seem to bare themselves to us
at convenient moments.

We wait in breathless silence
pondering the validity of our attractions.
Internally explaining away all emotion to lusty angst.

Where do we go then?
How does one fix the hollow, pulsing void
where their soul once slept?

Wish for help, wish for
wisdom to lend it’s succor
to the peregrine spirit that’s possessed me.

The path winds ever on.
The sky is a vast and seamless blue silk
but perception is warped by an irrational misery.

The fabric is worn---shredded at the edges,
and fading in the heat of the summer’s torrid sun.
but how could anyone mind, it is yet enthralling in its remoteness .

Yearn only to slumber in safe arms once more
to feel the velvet darkness
kiss the backs of my eyelids and pull me under.

To dream of cool stillness
infused with glimmering, incandescent points of energy
the numbness descending to drown out the dread.