this . . . is not just loneliness

wandering in here feeling
the feeling of not even feeling
the swallowing numbing
in this stall of no walls . . .
 there’re no sanctioning echos
in this abounding silence
just going ‘round ‘n ‘round
in a forever come’n ‘round

there’s no touching in this hold
fingerprints can’t cling to silence
despair is always distending
tauntingly baiting its prey
with helplessly holding onto
the abandoning delusion of sucking
on the dry titty of pretending to be
being embraced by the mocking arms
of this bare and carnivorous tomb

Copyright (c) 2021 Asili Ya Nadhiri