electric wheel chairs and electric wires in your brain,
blood filled clouds shower on the insane.

unfinished projects pilled in your garage,
the pain in your spine could use a massage.

ribbons glue head to neck,
they connect like a child's
cheek and a mothers' peck.
tiny hands
full of life
and unstructured strokes
soon to be a house
full of unknown smokes.

these lights are painful,
                                                 like cold sores
and it hurts to kiss,
                                                  and it tastes like dirt.

I've read your books and I know your worth,
but now you're discolored, and your heart lost its beat.
and you're freezing, slowly, and becoming a piece of this earth.

I feel so alone, and I miss those beats.

Is it sad
that I can still smell you in the sheets?