amid the
syncopated
wombmurmur
in the heart
of a dying star
i hear your voice
soft and clear,

wormwood
coats the
undertongue
as night falls
over the sleeping
disaster promised
in your sigh.

i walk steadfast
into the
whirl of blades
unafraid
or unfazed
as the metal
strikes bone,

soft and clear
i hear your voice,
in the heat
of a trying spark
lost in subsonic bliss
amid your
heartchatter.