whispers they say

I dont know what you sound like

feel like or look like

anymore

blotted from memory

The us also sounds different now

clouds of a different tune

what was that again...

So much put into the attic

locked away

The doors make sounds though

I listen to the knocks of anguish

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images - dead ones

a series of images I see when I close my eyes - writing them down for the first time This one's the protesting dead ones. " It's a high metal gate that is shut. there is a guard on the inside of it and an angry mob on the outside. The mob is made of dead people. they have no eyes and their flesh - white, almost non-existent. They are dressed in white dhotis and banians and have turbans wrapped around their heads. A few of them carry things in their hands, could be sticks. They are screaming, they want to get through to the other side of the gate."

monster

Another one was slain today It was a powerful blow strength that comes out with furious thoughts massacring all in its way there's no mercy, no pity, no empathy nothing matters but that one thought that swings the blow You breathe, it's over and then a realisation that you are lesser human now

Us

I'm yearning and I'm craving I don't know if this is what they call it I do know that a piece of me refuses to be my own It floats, towards you Pulling me along I see myself whispering into the air speaking to the unknown For a few moments with you Wishing they would be strung together forever The suns and the moons The greys and the wrinkles The passions and the laughs They want to be with you I've been heard before I could be heard again...

all her toil

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