And the emptiness now lets the memory howl and bang its head off the sheer walls of never—
Engulfed in consequence as it rolls in fog or smoke? In any case—
lonely
looks like this-- numb and cool and slow-moving grayish-white fingers reaching for molecules of air while the reign of suffering comes like fine drizzle over springtime over....
Desire perishing in a crisis of will In the thickets of panic— bronchial spasms expand seconds at an open window Choking, congestive, failure of heart! in the face of what it means to be... not being
...as I came into this world breach and not breathing to my mother’s horror! Alone Scrapping, gasping, grappling for breath