Each breath brings solitude and silence.
With Her sisters betwixt and bewildered.
The sting of its honesty is a matter for scholars. Pain it’s self the indulging child of peace.
Yet each hour brings the tireless dawn on to barren eyes, the stars nap-sacs of dreams unborn.
Only if I could rest.
Stretching, burning TIRED are these bones, the weight of reality shifts the comfort forward, leaving a juicy rut of despicable pain.
Try and drown out the noise of darkness when your head is louder than your own voice.
Shifting in sleep; laughing for sleep.
It still burns.
Hunger sets in.