The void echoes
So I know now
That there is
A floor for the
Lack of ceiling.

It echoes with
The absence,
All the forgotten
Compliments
And memory etched
Transgressions.

In its form there
Are waves I ride,
Pulsating irregularly
Without care for
The pleas for comfort
And warmth.

In the wake of
Dead air passes
A broken melody
Asking me to lie here
And just forget
The world.

01/30/2018

Posted on 01/30/2018
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