Thunder

Shared a photograph this evening, it was an accurate depiction of the future that I now live, every day was a stride across the fraying timeline.

Nothing has change nor will it ever. Proof is burning.

I told her that I was a murderer. 

But I constantly kill myself. 

An empty hand swings freely

with each passing season.

The hours that hold me back 

grow longer as

you wait for thunder and 

I wait for another reason...

Counting the years that buried me alive

I look in retrospect and see that I've buried myself

and I'm having trouble swimming through this sea of gravel

is there anyone anywhere?

I've said failed trying is not enough

but it is too much. 

I breathe this air to accommodate the rest of you.

I've no reason to live outside of this room, outside of the absent.

Exhaling these words wrought with tension and deliberation

I've tried. I love. 

It is what I didn't say, because you're never here to let me...

*look into the sky, I know - you can go now*