It's that heart-clenching feeling when you want something so badly.
It's the ache you feel right down to your bones when you feel a part of you is missing.
(how could you miss arms you've never felt?)
The pain, the longing just has a way of eating you from the inside out, until all that's left is a hollow body.
Just a living being wanting, wanting to feel that semblance of warmth, of love.

I'm liable to forget
That we all have phantoms
Hollow spaces
Dug and never refilled
And it was only last October
That I began wondering
Whether you miss your baby brother
Who never breathed
Your parents named him John
And I began wondering
If
Like me
You sometimes fell
Into the caverns and abysses that gaped
From the expectant space
In every family portrait
And whether you occasionally lost yourself
In the pregnant air inside your house
That anticipated an un-breathed child
An unused bedroom
And grew thick and stale
In it's emptiness.
I'm liable to forget
That we all have dropped stitches
And voids
And holes in our favourites scarves
Our brothers slipped down the plughole
But I mostly forgot about yours
Because mine was blood
And yours was always
As fickle as water.

You're too pretty to look so sad.

You're too young to feel so empty.

You laugh too heartily to be so numb.

I've loved you too much for your chest to hollow.

You'd loved me too much to to ever want to leave.

You'd disguised yourself too well for me to know better.

I wish I'd known.
I wish I'd known.

so*  colorful  and  bright  like  a  flowe­r
so  lively  and  cheerful  like  a  *­child
once were they all,
but the winds of hardship turned them into
burning*  paper   and   *hole

**** me,
just do it now.
I'm done with this life,
with all its stress and anxiety.
My parents say
that I'm a demon hotel.
I say
that I'm just living how I want.

**** me,
just throw my life away for me.
I'm done with all the tests.
I'm done with all the misfortune.
There's no one
that will ever love me.
At least,
it feels that way.

I'm so confused.
Some people aren't ignoring me,
but yet they are.
I feel so lonely...

These hollow hands,
this hollow body...
It needs something,
someone to fill it back up.
Yet no one seems to hear the echo
from inside.

i found a home
in his hollow heart
the walls creaked
while i slept

i found a home
in his narrow neck
the air ducts gurgled
while i slept

the air whirled
and the noises got louder
while i slept in
my hollow home

"I just want to have ***", you said.
An unexpected non-sequitur.
We had been sipping tea or coffee or something.
We had been reminiscing about the old street,
Back when none of us were single.
"yeah, I miss it, too", I said.

"No.  I mean right now", you corrected.
As I turned to see your face, it betrayed little.
Impassive but alert.  Warm but not intimate.  No passion.
I was willing, but remember: this never happened to me.
Something seemed wrong about it,
But was there any harm?

I asked if I could think about it.
You thought about it, too, as we watched a movie.
Halfway through some Ridley Scott epic, we held each other.
We touch-explored and memory only tells me this is true:
With no further reason beyond the will to be,
I soon lay naked there with you.  
It wasn't love but, then again,
This never happened.
Awkward, at first, we found our place,
Our touch and pull, our rhythm and pace.
"no kissing", you admonished, speaking only that.

Though I rest spent and full inside you,
That was your concern.
Too personal.
Too intimate.

We held each other for a while,  you left within the hour,
Saying, "this never happened", and my only thought,
My only answer to you,
Was a solemn confirmation,
That nothing could be more true.

Vulnerable smile, cherubic.    Vessel in the well.
  Watery eyes. First tooth.         Nameless relation.
    New birth. Memories.             New joys. Old pain.
       Overflowing love.                    Half-voice. Kin-sister.

Stars, crackling up in the creux.          A relation called
Nights. Angling; moon.                 brumeux love, half-hug,
Nets wide cast; comets pass.                folded in the wallet.

Pouring out. Half-gong.      Calling to the valleys.
Brook. Shadowy corners.    Tongues, welling up
Delight, discovery.               voices, hushed whispers
Bleating with the sheep,      hymns rising.
crying with the birds,          Conjunctions of states.
whirling with the winds;    Conjurer of fawns.

Casting; soil; roots; new growings;
smiling, spiralling around the hollow,
new life; a cherub, the new dawn.

Promise me
When my hands begin to tremble
You’ll place your hand in mine
When my eyes become hollow
You’ll gaze into them
When I’m at a loss for words
You’ll kiss me so the silence
Can speak for the both of us.

They stop playing the drum
When I rather they not
For then - I tend to go numb

My feelings experience a clot
Blocking any emotions getting through
So they begin to rot -

In their place - apathy begins to brew
Boiling happiness - and fear - away
Hollowed out soul is to ensue

What can be done to delay the decay?
Why nothing at all - don't be dumb
Give in to the void and turn grey

That's what I did - it's pretty glum.
Oh God, what have I become -