A freshly wrung-out sponge, doomed to spend eternity being teased by the one thing that once kept me alive.
A bendy-straw cigarette ****, damp and unable to be re-lit while its insides stumble every which way and that.
A crumpled piece of paper thrown under a tree, destined to spend its entire life in the shadow of its father.

So much flagrant anger,
and violet silence,
leads to frustration all in vain
and sirens, violence.

Ideas feed the blind,
look by it. die, grit.
frilled smiles by design,
be quiet. die, quick.

Friends before, now estranged,
both nigh from frightened.
Hurricanes to earthquakes,
to die from climates

Thousands of electric pulses
scattered in confusing patterns.
Imagination convulses,
tattered, mind under matter.

Enveloped by space and time,
pardoned by neither,
eloped by both.
Pacing.

Shooting from the hip,
mind's eye is blind fire,
pawing through the labyrinth,
waiting for the shift.

Hopeless.
Blunder.
Shocks.
Over.

The smoke caught fire
   and burned the ashes,
   and like a wildfire -
   something beautiful
   came after.
Sprouting from
   the debris was a
   metanoia; one cannot
   help but think...
The way a serpent
   leaves behind its
   former walls.

Comfort in silence
No air to be filled
They said.
Comfortable around
The other.
Dead air or
Dead connection?
Starting fires just
To know we were
Both going to
Get burned.
At least we were
"Both" something.
Silence never slept so peacefully.