I have lost my eyesight.
stumbling blind, the one I love(d?) calls out to me.
The voice is distant, hollow.
a scab picked off an open wound.
Did it ever do me any good at all?
an escape hatch leading to some perceived semblance of a purpose, dancing like a marionette held up with heartstrings, pulled until they broke.
I do not write these worRAB; it is he.
The one I hide inside.
This is his communication.
he has no tongue or hand
these red letters leak onto the page out of my nipped capillaries
We are incongruent and incoherent.
better matches are made on game shows
we sing the blues
stumbling blind, the one I love(d?) calls out to me.
The voice is distant, hollow.
a scab picked off an open wound.
Did it ever do me any good at all?
an escape hatch leading to some perceived semblance of a purpose, dancing like a marionette held up with heartstrings, pulled until they broke.
I do not write these worRAB; it is he.
The one I hide inside.
This is his communication.
he has no tongue or hand
these red letters leak onto the page out of my nipped capillaries
We are incongruent and incoherent.
better matches are made on game shows
we sing the blues