I can’t sleep. Tears secrete secretly. Meeting ducts, crumbs succumb alone. Gathering records, if I was a wreck before… So I tight shut, trust, my eyes in a dark glow of street floors. Horizons away, you stay, can’t hear you say, I love you, living away from here. Razor blades, marshy grass. Another hazy sphere. Separate, yet so near. Since you passed, ain’t a thing hear clear. Past. Tensed. Absent tenders. Immense surrender.
Pain. Too vast to articulate. It accumulates. Infuriates. In a frenzy, emotions blend me. Bend me, Allah ni marzi taking her life like it’s farz, this angel defends me. I’m lucifer maybe. Lucid crazy. It’s something, it’s nothing, it’s numbness. Berating ashy shakes, medics and their late brains. They hate veins. Waiting, weighting dust. Amplified oblivion living in my blood, cells, mediating ways to avoid seven kinds of hell, wrapped in a rotting shell I’m flustered, rustling hustlers to dig up heaven bound wells. Tolling bells, justice for just us then, well done, death sells.
Rhythms beating fast, break neck lasts. Touching seams, kissing cheeks, ripped seeds. Speed at which we reap needs. We’re all waiting for this dream to reveal a humour most esteemed. Practice test lends itself to smoke screens, unforgiven misdemeans, deeds read like dead seas, regressing. I wake up. Screaming. Unrefreshed. Human regrets. Progression steams ahead leaving me be.
You are my breath and I’m not sure you knew. Without you. Days, weeks, months, years, too few and in between. Weak. Can’t wake you from this deep, do you bleed in another plane or do you remain unscathed, bathed in rainbow frames? In sane untamed. It’s not the same. Wrapped in white. Pink petals scattered against the sleep written in your skin. Allocated space. Sheen in frozen grace so I’m told, I prefer the hum in your happy grin, more precious than,
Handmade wedding gold. Watching you grow beautifully, age serenely, but you lie in the worst kind of morbid cold, stuck inside sadness, grief is our broken home, emptiness echoes up in this brick-built casketry while you’re a cornerstone in a designated cemetery… How is it I could always read your fate, but never my own?
spectred & scriptured 
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