Long slow fall to the cold stare of the middle distance

These long hours of silence
Of hearing white noise hearts and swift blood
Attenuation
Feeling cotton abrasion from old cloth pressed down against skin
The soft of new starched straight yet pliable
These textured off white walls and bed splashed crimson hoping to wake in core some semblance of joy

But the quiet stretches out
And too tired soul
Weary from fighting for smiles and hopes
Falls to knees
Beaten without solace

The shiver as hair raises against skin pushing out
Adrenaline wanting nothing more than a few minutes until exhaustion leads its way through collapse
The beckoning oblivion of sleep
To dream of lives unlived
To be for those few minutes happy

An edifice collapsing under the weight of its needs
Too much for any person to sustain
That subtle lack of home
While house stands

Places feel so empty
Without

One thought on “Long slow fall to the cold stare of the middle distance

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