Stream of Consciousness Writing (5/6/17)

My limbs branch listlessly, searching
Crawling over brick and wood,
my vines are all hunger and hopelessness and ache

Gaining on you
your lines seem to unravel
Floating loosely about in the shape of a girl
A figure seen from a distance
An echo that I can't pin the origin of

Never talk again
Words aren't good enough for your lips
From now on, only breath
In the silence, I'll know

Cracks form in my rocky skull, rending
Your soil, water and all that lives atop obligingly filing down
Inhabiting the spaces left in my cortex

Weaving complex fabrics catching fragments of you

Lightyears from my birth I still know it like a poem
Llike a song