every line leaves
a piece of my sorrow,
roughspun silk, to drape
down your thrumming
ache.

a filthy kite string
connecting tragedies,
burrowing blow flies in
the dessicated heart
of passion.

i would gladly hold
every broken soul tightly
to my steam powered heart
in hopes of sealing the
cracks.

but i cannot, so i
leave a trail of discarded
odes to litter the highway
scattered bits of souldander
emptiness.