omissions discarded lists of unknown unasked unanswered questions crumpled receipts and wrappers and windshield wipers clueless to contents.
I've all but split in two hoping for a sign waiting for some imagined moment to manifest It doesn't. It won't.
You know, don't you (?) know what it is to be lonely in a crowd to be in your own head to smile when your heart stopped a hundred days ago...
A precipice a space held to only by fingers, thought and desperate movements I am no longer okay. I am no longer in this. I am no longer able. I am no longer held together by gravity.
Some higher form etched my name in lead forever still form ambiguous my succubus I fail to know.