sulphur skeletons & grey overheads on plastic floors & walls
& the sounds of impotent songs
blaring into your ears & organs sweating hundreds of things &
grasping words from tired throats & deathly glassed eyes & bright teeth
& so many choices & concessions & compromising for what,
but a slower death & a softer landing & choosing Life
in solitude I try to foster clarity yet
to feel in earnest is to accept a horrible yearning & a horrible suffering & let tears dry & explode
explosion in madness, in orgasm, in pain
I've felt them all & still the space between observer and observed remains
watching thoughts pass & invigorate the soul/flesh bodies: "I", "I", "I",
like a masochistic habit, I am reminded I am alone again and again,
even in the psyche, foggy clouds drown out sharp lines
to touch another is to stroke a solitary heart the same as I,
a ghost in a shell, begging to share air in a raw Living always a layer away