27 October 1887

written on another day

word swell inside
waiting to explode
into open air
around me
a cloud is forming
barely contained within

tower of babal
dispersed our word
divided - fallen

unable to communicate
first squabbling broke out
then full hedged war
voices shouting

words - flying - bullets

blood death
from death life
from one many
becomes again not
as strong as stone to war
bust as electric voices
in the wire

I have lost myself
in side of you
or because of you
I can never remember
you call me forth again
where was I?

or was I at all
in the between times
when you don't think
of me.
if you die and you are alone
are you really dead?

It is increasingly hard
to see myself
I blend in more
yet stand out on
the edges more sharply
diffused in the middle
by my surrounding
but more secure by
my sense of self
boundaries are crisp
sharp enough to cut


it's throat is dark
the color of dried blood
under skin
such a delicate little thing
can he survive like that?
have I failed somehow
unconsciously bruising?

copyright raven victoria erebus