the dishwasher
sounds
like the ocean
the sunlight
is bitterly cold
the mist
is filled
with the souls
of the dead
as i stagger down
the open road

the clouds
are made of razors
cutting swaths
across
the gray
the earth
is filled with
the bones
of the one’s
that got
away

i am
alone
in a fit
of sobbing
alone
in a haze
of loss
alone
searching
for your lips

can you hear me
crying softly
can you hear me
call
your name
can you feel
my desperation
as i struggle
to exit
this malaise
in vain

just whispers
in the darkness
of a soul
that whimpers
in pain
just the harsh
unbending
reality
of the moth
as it flies
into flame