you hold the broken
weak me in your hand to no
tomorrow

close my mind now my
thoughts are a stick on the ground
silent me

play the close notes right
down to the raw simple tear
you to me

simplest raw me
you cannot see the obscure
distill it

the antimatter of reason
has just died Jacques Derrida now
has he or

do not blind to the
hidden soul reach fingertip
to my soul

if you open your
ears to see what I think you
cringe me