another form of convergence

If only you knew
the intensity of this wait

time has an abnormally short reach

I am conscious of every stub of hair
busting through my cheeks

these organs pulsating madly

I hear my voice as a public declamation
and I know that I am

if only I could find the right word
that tames the turbulent static
begin pouring soft flora
down my throat
the prayer is a form of evaporation

its crushing plenitude
opens up a region
for me to forget
my bearings

in the simultaneous act
of being keyhole and


Nihilistic Poetry Blog

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