the sound remains
of a bottle or bone
who's draining 
marrow often keeps you

your empty building soon falls
apart and is condemned,
tear it down 
replace it with another
or remain empty and sound
for mice
unsatisfied children
and death 
remains, not empty at all
uncondemned in its constant
comforting decay

there is no day...
where absence leaves
you alone to live through 
the eyes of memory
to see only through 
the lens of hell

what is a river
where did we cross
and can we go back


-michael

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