(.....)

the night sky strained of tone, circles three hours in advance.

we said goodbye, bruised, lost and unable to face the waking tomorrow, unable to ever know it, we vanish in the forty third cantos.

a gash keeps bleeding, an indigestible pain weaves consciousness’ last brave attempt, love’s extends to the quantum, death is everywhere, and the toll of another to many anymore continues

in the third struggle, sleep fails.

below, a vast emptiness of dirt is spectacled with artificial luminosity.

something keeps on, something is now someone elses, something is gone, forever gone, forever at dawns edge, no longer words, only deep anguish and tears, and tomorrow is here.