It will never get to him, I
remember, and the word is remuted. He and loved ones now on hodily.
Some of the detailed screme
my horizon, acidic amidst the electric soup.
2 dayaways in a read hot bus
with not a word in sight,
They are back, safe and
secure but I am adrift, like the rift in my soul; sundered.
You will never read these
words for they are cleared in the blue, blew.
When I held you, caressed you,
held here you, I died against my agony, again. Thousands of miles awayed and
yet the hourage was similar. Thousands of miles and the details are familiar.
Berate me for my denial of
life, I live only for you.
