nameless

my heart beating treble blood

 

pours in the temple

 

head

 

aches

 

 

 

press the fingers together to pray

 

anxious fears

 

 

 

 

like a vast ship and vaster seas surrounding

 

come at night

 

 

 

to pry the brain out like a misers soup

 

black bed blacker window dark

 

thoughts darker hand before my face

 

i would cry out if there were anyone to cry to

 

oh the sum of parts the need

 

for a tomorrow, an hour of need in a

 

tumult

 

of a nothing that is there.

　

Reviews

[...]

. when there's nothing ... even then there's poetry ... and poetry as perfect as this ... is really something substantial ... for all of us ... emily is so right ...

[Emily B]

you are not alone, there are several of us, you see