Sleep fails, the brain derailed, empty
abandoned by memories
and ghosts of plots whispering:
she was going to fight the enemy,
drunk, and throw up on him.
Asking: why was it never used;
asking: did you hate her?
To questions; no answer,
only another draft in
the future, errors melting
like wax from flying wings.
The emptiness waits hollow
silent, wishing to be filled,
the cup urging a new drink
in the wash if endorphin ecstasy
it demands to be clothed,
nakedness demanding new
stories to weave in the silence
to be filled with new voices
and laughter edged with
broken dreams and chains
and the wild rush of flight.
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