Where do you go with a broken hand & no one to sing to?
When the body is broken the mind wants to soar.
Echoes keeping us from rests no
Salvation
Crushed body from a purer mind.
Asking for some confirmation, an invisible passive certification...
be grounded enough to stand
I’m aware of the nothingness
But the nothingness returns only empties.
A giver turns to dust with nothing left to offer
Maybe I never had anything but someone to receive
From me.
There’s no collaborator just an image of me being stabbed & stumbling;
I’m begging for a rhyme, don’t let me get lost enough to ask for a Reason:
If it was me, I’d be less subtle, that is...
Nothing to cut with.
No song to sing.
I am the cage & the prisoner & the guard without a Key.
/Salt in the wound & tears of blood
Stay awake & take me up again, ——I don’t want to complain but I don’t want to miss the lights or the abyss without you, trustworthy witness.
