days like this

on days like this

there is a vacuum inside of me

wind whistles in the spaces where i am meant to feel something

tube suckling life from anything that dares to stir or yearns

to move me from lonely solitude to comfort

endless air tunnel with destination blank

slipping solemn stillness for emotion

in a silent battle beneath my skin

to stimulate my feelings

to substitute feelings

to distract from lack thereof

alas lazy elongates

stretched into a highway from brain to lips

roundabout at mouth to exit lane limbs

to the empty corridor of my heart

wherein vapid seeps

slowly into the marrow

as rigid as thick crust at my crux

stiff enough to contain all of me

dull the shine of my insides

every crevice spoilt

in utter ruins

world ablaze

and i, ash