The last time I was here, you left me with warnings, mumbling admonitions, swallowing sugar pills. You told me this ground I tread is damned.  I walk along the same path we chose before.  The last time I was here, you were laying on the tracks… half alive.  After you were gone, I felt a bit afraid… trying to run from a memory on rotten stilts… watching the passing shadows of what I’ll never be… what we never were… but I wish it was different.  I am free; my heart is heavy.  I am independent and scared of myself.

I think I was tired of you.

I gave you a gift that was a dark and bottomless well where dreams dissolve like salt in warm, agitated water.

Yet, you loved me anyway. 

I got swept away… in games… in porn… in fake reality which became more real than my job.  Mass mind’s a closed circuit on parade.  I’m stuffed into a silent hole- hot, claustrophobic- never meant to be discovered or enjoyed anymore.  I seep into my screens.  Mass mind’s a dead letter office, growing ruinous and uncomfortable.  After swallowing your opinions, I’ve been blocked, barren… pixelated.  Freshly dead above the neckline: the result of my Byzantine machinations.  The procession of downloads and deletions continues as brightness gathers, a clear space offered in the very real (?) sky. above me

Give me back the wind.  Mold me into a reasonable shape… formless.  Here in the vacuum, without your defining influence, I miss you the most.  Vacant needs.  A honeyed lay.  Painted, blushing.  I wish you the best in life and death.

Bones built the original card house.  My flesh is an angry cage.  Walking in this fragility, my heart hammers.  My mouth is full of sand.  My head is empty, floating on a string above this insectile heart.  My shaking hand reaches out for you.  In a saturated confusion I have found my place- I lay in a worn, stained spot hoping for contact.  I linger here needing your embrace.  I am ripped away.  I am smashed to bits voluntarily.  This is freedom of the most calculated and brutal type.