Days disease hours as
thoughts of you cross my
mind. like eye-less echo’s, that dig
end-less pits to the center of my heart.
I long to touch your
skin, lick a kiss, as
you penetrate my body, but
it is reality that fades the dream.
…you are but a whisper on my lips
escaping the grasp of my reaching hand…
as apathy is a tower
that builds itself to the heavens,
so we may kneel before our creator
eliminating the situation devouring us.
and when you are finally mine…
we will have nothing-ness
{except} torched, charred remains.
mountains reduced to rubble. oceans
dry as sand. and skies that blot the sun.
twisting dust between our vertebrae.
spines intertwine...life-less love spawn in death.
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