i feel
all of the things
i needed
fall away
scabs in
the tempest
as my diseased
nothingness
pulsates
in a frenzy
of denials

it is easier
to slap away
the hand seeking
succor rather than
offering peace
to accept
there is only
emptiness
between those
dying embers
populating the
eerie cosmos

the damages
callously inflicted
make it so
when i curl up
into a ball
it almost feels
as if i am being
held again
as long as i
ignore the fact
the arms are my own
the pins and needles
feel nearly comforting

i don’t really
have enough value
left to trade in
for dreams any longer
as the scabs
fall away
in the tempest
where i left my soul
to poison the soil
with the emptiness
reflected in the
words left unsaid