I searched the corners, losing him; in the orange grasses by the river- harshly brilliant, intertwined to hide a life-, in the mash of terror where souls escape to die, in the hallways of hamlets from which I come. concrete and grass. the luxuries of nothingness, a vain love….

I heard a noise. a brush of wind. Wait, it was a puppies’ whimper.
He wasn’t to be found.

There were people, hundreds, thousands- or perhaps two- standing, crowding, gazing, looking from left to right, at me. how are you? one wondered flicking her fingernails bitten to the skin, flashing a greyish teeth, at me. where is he? i asked. A desperation.

Where is he? why does he stand in there, with everybody- all two of you, as himself, telling songs of tales denied, yet I, I who seek him, I…I fail to see him. To hear him, to find him——To have him touch me?

It’s hollow, my bloody organ. I aches.


2 Comments Add yours

  1. the emrys says:

    am right here, fret no more 😀

  2. mphoebe says:

    if only to were you em. If only ….

    thanx thou

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