I'm an apostle of broken things
of bitter blows and sacred stings
the night turns weary inside the dark
the taste of death come morning

I wake inside this unholy night
broken against a fearsome light
blinded by music too much too soon
the ache of love gone missing

they say empty vessels make the most noise
here i am, tearing my skin wide open
leaving myself right here in the hell we call earth
opening my heart just to be shot back down, again
here i lay, my body and mind empty
my heart blank, my limbs suffocating
my brain worn out and my fingers twitching
here i am, vulnerable and
empty

but here i am, not being able to make a sound
i open my mouth to speak but the words just won't come out
i am trying, i am trying
but my soul has shut down
i am silent
i am an empty vessel, a blank canvas
but i am not making the most noise, im not making any noise
just
because i don't  remember how to

42

A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!
Your prayers, oh Passer by!
From such a common ball as this
Might date a Victory!
From marshallings as simple
The flags of nations swang.
Steady—my soul: What issues
Upon thine arrow hang!