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Bleak Distance

darkness 
Heh, well, I gotta admit, that is a
lifeless echo of a lost  scream, colliding 
like blood and paint. spilt coffee and
shadows of the smoke, running my thumb
over grooves in spaces between webbing
delicate tendrils of sensitive skin
is the natural place to start on the way to a
black hole of bleak touches, empty
like clay that dried into dust & never
to be seen again, vanishing  into the yonder 
-finished 10/8/2014 7:07:28 AM PST
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