"I no more wrote,
than read that book
which is the self I am,
half-hidden as it is..."
Silence is a comforting counterpart
It bores itself into the hollows
twists wounds into words
and forms its own emergence
I didn't seek the supposition
of this mainstay
For I am no more the author
of it, than I am the reader
"... from one and all,
who see within a kiss
The lounging, formless blackness
of an abyss"
I cannot grasp the yearning
yet I petition it still
despite brittle skin
the intimate necessity
for it remains resilient
seeing the radiance past
the darkening void
and I will not let the language
concealed in this
manuscript of self
endlessly
consume me









gah!
s













.. thank you cugina!! 
Nice analogy 






.. I'm not sure I should write on opiates!


77 old applause
