From Heartburn to Nowhere

Staring at the walls in silence is beginning to make me lose my mind. Am I still falling or have I hit rock bottom? In this state, I can’t quite tell. Somehow the reins still appear to be slipping. The hour of birth is soon approaching, so kill me please if I manage to get through it. This has not been the year that I would have ever wanted. The clouds turned to rust while the weeds became so overgrown that I could not see. Blindness is not bliss. This is a razor fact. There is only love in the end to satiate your pain and although it is often false, when it is direct, nothing on earth compares to it nor does anything else matter. Before the buildings came down, everything was starkly simple. There was a moment before the tragedy when our feet were resting on the table in peace. Now we are both licking our wounds. I am responsible for yours and you dumped salt onto mine. Has the score been evened out yet? All of the explanation is devouring my insides now that that the whole fucking world knows about our problems. Can we return to the electric place where we naturally began? Would you ever be able to give me your hand again? There never was anyone else who you loved more or who loved you as much. Somehow I know that you understand this too. Just because I put a blade into your heart doesn’t mean that I don’t want to be there to help you recover. The fact of the matter is that I put a blade in our collective hearts, but I am trying to convalesce beside you. The blood in our veins drips in unison because I understand you just as I am understood in return. At the bottom of my charred conscience, I feel your pulse. You can try to wash it off, but it’s indelible. You can try to burn it down, but it’s underneath the skin. You can try to cover it up with something else, but it refuses to be erased. The faint meter of history renders us as flecks of debris in the field, but our desires are not yet buried beneath the wheels. Do you hear the train whistle blowing in the distance? I hope that you do. It’s still there every night even though you are missing. The tracks are humming with an articulate warmth. Despite this meager calm, there is distance in more ways than one. Time, I feel, is becoming an adversary. The crowds in the street dissolve. The faces in the club become shadows. Each interaction without you is some kind of sinister encounter. I feel my heart and my guts on fire. There is no reason to carry on. The morning alarm is a pestilence. The evening routine is like a slow suicide. The only comfort is sleep and sleep is like death, so why can’t it just evolve into what it’s meant to be? With no letters, no phone messages, no whispers and no place to rest my bones, I feel the unrelenting pangs of heartbreak without pause. Help me please. These words traverse from my fading blood cells to nowhere.