I’m disassembling piece by piece…
deteriorating, decayed, decreased.
If you’re here, retrieve me.
They checked my flesh,
they checked my heart,
they can’t detect my faulty parts.
But they say you’ll heal me…
…can you heal me?
I plug my ear, bash my fist.
I need some proof that you exist,
that you can reach me.
Can you reach me
now that you bent the bars of the cage,
scraping skin, draining age,
out of view, out of range,
out where no hope remains?
I need your name, Karuna…
A few points of warmth in a vast, confusing cosmic sphere, all alien, yet somehow familiar - like being shielded from the cold rage of an unknown night by your childhood bed.
A place to ever so softly drift a while and dream. dfectiveDtective
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