I hear the buzz of fluorescent lights above my head,
but there are none.
And all the machines whisper
in their secret tones.
All my comforts make me ill.
My temples pulse
and crumble among their dying citizens.
Birds take flight and remind me
of the places I could be.
My city is dying
and I’m staying to watch it fall.
the only dreams i remember are the ones where you’re alive and i can’t help but panic when i think maybe you’ll haunt me forever in the crystal castles we so blindly lived and loved in through summers, falls, winters, and springs that propelled us across rivers of doubt and dread to brightened eyes, high fives, and happy howling laughter of the wolves that stalked us like the prey they couldn’t wait to devour at night when we shared our secrets and saved each other from our detrimental destructive pasts that came together and collided so intensely that day stopped coming and we only had darkness to hold on to one another’s chances legitimately, and without pretense, until the day my savior died in the arms of a woman on fire with temping, collapsible morals and no sense of what was right or wrong with the actions that devoured my organs; my eyes, my heart, and my tongue went first down the beast’s throat, and with a laugh unlike that which we used to share, it said, “there is nothing left here.”