And so she cried,
To be wanted- loved.
To find hands to caress and hold her up,
To wash her face and love her spine
Bound in skin and leather- stare
To fold her paragraphs, to hold each leaf.

Letters fair and finding want:
Set in stare, sat upon
To sit and wait for her young man fair
Her;
She was waiting there.

Need for one;
To open and look
To: Inside her soul; to be her rook.

And in time...
As it stole-
(As it does)
Brought dust and dirt and careless love,
Broken crystal sphere dream
Never came the true one-
Seemed to ignore her there-
She: Unseen.
He: always there, but never was.

He: wanting not for foot
Never placed it near her root
And was; and not, in time and trace.

And still forever longing was she-
To partake of him
Her,
He: His countenance to grace.

Fair moon, fair moon!
Dim and waning
Waning- winding
"This tear so great, my pages scarce."
Wished this one:
For now, forever foreign touch.

And called for me on that eve
I heard her cry
To her I went- I walked, every step wider and wider stride
Motives unknown, childlike in snout
Left judgement at foothold of her home.
I grasped her- her spine
I her loving debutante
And she with me to strike
The dusty and forgotten road.

Perhaps in time I too may give
A story of my own journey amiss,
But for now...she: I am devoted
To finding her, her place
For her to find a careful hand
To care for her to-
Love each ampersand.

Love each stroke of her lips,
To know each page from her diary- that now does drip.

Alone.

So very alone.

The echoes in my mind

Reflect back, and I hear.

"Alone.

"So very alone."

-

I can't very well understand.

Why it is or why,

I cant.

But what I know is simple, im reminded very slow

I'm alone,

So very alone.

At days end im just the same as I was

Alone.

-

Off in the distance I see,

Those who are very near to me.

And yet I do not know them, or cannot grasp

Their clothing in these hands.

I hear the voice inside my mind,

Cry to itself as it weeps inside

It says:

"Alone!

"So very alone!"

"So where to go, shall we go?!

"That we might not be alone?"

Not enough breath to breathe anymore,
Not enough strength to heave anymore.
Retching that thing into the sink,
Wretched call on the telegraph-
Morse code rapping and tapping upon the sink.

Pounding away at muscle and vet,
Unbelief in the idea of death-
Slowly rests as a crown on head.

Hard-line in a closing stall
Best of all- sold out, capital fall
Production has ended on all accounts,
A poison fountain now springs out.

And as the sickness becomes-
Both a synonym for you; and for disturbed
Spile: not mild ash within
Spills over: magma dharma
Pray it will end.

Skittish;
Brim fish.

Bottle open,
Dichotomus elopen'.

Brim fish-
Quite skittish.
Sees us
Fears this.
Great hand
"Reaching towards us!"

Hands have hurt
And have squeezed-
Have let us go
And forsaken our needs,
Hands have hurt
(Hands have healed)
Hands have cut our skins like bright orange peels.

Skittish fish
Stuck lip.
Skittish fish
May as well been whipped.
Skittish fish
(Hungry dish.)

Brim fish
Has a wish
To grow teeth
And be vicious.

"And her, and her lime green hair

Calamax, oh Calamax:

The sister fair.

-

She estranged

From her throne

Had thoughts, and thoughts

Her neighbors grown

To runaway

To newfound grass

Intermediate memory

So she passed.

-

Flighty and light

Her steps were made,

Made meaningless strides

Eventually which dug her grave.

-

In time she added

All she did need

Every each day

She found feed,

Foal she was

Foolish and dirt

Likely to lose.

Her life-

Inert.

-

In path she was

To kingdom fame

To find reknown,

In gold so vein,

In this it was

And always will be

A forigen concept,

To the narrator: me.

-

"Calamax,

Your beauty full,

Come to home

Our cart to pull."

-

"Calamax,

We entreat you so

Rest with us,

A new home we'll be-

Stay and see."

This: their words,

Their strategy.

-

And soon she lay

Upon the road

The same she traveled

To escape ailing abode

In deep well she was

In cast: sad lot

Her feet bare, breathing stop.

-

Her talent took

Her far away

From family,

And daybreak smell

Sold upon

Life's errs and cracks

Her soul we mourn:

Oh, Calamax!"