The present absence

A present absence expands & contracts, hollow at the core as thin thoughts convinced that words can poison internal organs collapse into a pool of stagnant water where no light survives.

The days fold & fall away leaving only the faintest trace of what once existed…

grotesque

& never-ending, a thing somehow still alive, like a zombie convulsing on the floor in a room with an unlockable door; the Will conflicted, torn between hatred of daylight & fear of the night bringing tapeworms beneath the skin:

rip them out, one by one until the arms are nothing more than wet ribbons of red; tattered remains of flesh draped across bone.

Then wake up alone without hope that this will end the way it always does:

new meds, new promises

& the slow return of memories that always break your fall;

the pale shimmer

of phosphorescent ghosts.