so here I am, in evening's day,
watching as lines draw importance among charts
erased, once holy.
my tools collapse, blood letting instruments
raising grave. terra firma,
influence for siblings & greed to rest.

I am here, head high.
images burrow into my core, burned I shiver,
waiting forthem to control this grey brain, requesting,
from that moment, I'll throw them into
her paper grave.

why? why has the dawn come again?
one decade,
I waited for night.
& minutes agone, I spat in morning's eye.
tomorrow's evening I'll curse,
praying with head held, that sunrise
will not forget me.

slipping into my grave.
stepping out politely,
to wave my hand & contort my mouth,
pressure my heart & tense my bones.

now I'm alone.
& these potential loves can not
cure
my continual wishing or
halt these searches.

tattered auras weave into purple thread.
tattoed ivory wraps Turkish gold.

here.
here I am,
fousing or nodding;

the heavy weight of ink's stroke,
drawing you,
farther away.

it hurts when I speak.
it wakes when I breathe.