as thoughts stagnate, half valued, half purged
Devoid of all sense.
All happiness as transient as lost kisses
Penetration as inconceivabl
No words come but remains a nauseating fear of a litany
The chill that crept over her skin has decided to stay
The letter comes easily
the image of her naked, mutilated body on the shower room floor
How long would it take?
Jukebox classics. Faintly varied.
I don’t know why you say hello;
I say goodbye


