cold & lonely

I listen without listening; the
subway/buses/the street and they
are cold lonely words of separation|
of disconnection…of thinking…a razor
blade chill; a deep and vicious knife
cut through the fog of feeling & not
feeling through the day as it glows
less, slowly evolves…devolves into |
a cracked version of an intellectual
night an icy vibration sitting on the
cusp on the verge of the idea that
what I feel is real is apparent—and
here—when I don’t know when I
don’t know what is the real, the not
here…the somewhere else that climbs
through a window crawls down a fire
escape and brings me to this frigid
awareness, this cold vision of being;
bereft of warmth of feeling of knowing
I see but cannot see cannot think it that
way—a freezing emotion—while a
world runs headlong toward a frozen
end seen felt heard in time in heart in
mind and they think with words trying
to describe the un-describable, trying to
defend the indefensible; and it is always
always a cold & lonely conversation.

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