Scraps of the heavens,
their nostalgia, an enigma capturing the end.
They breathed & the illness of language, kneeling
in the memory of air howling.
Alphabet stifles your face.
Cut off [by] indulgent mind chaos.
My forefinger tracing tomorrow,
your future slipping headlong into my own,
a relentless atmosphere [of] possibilities
staring at an oblivious, opaque image
[of] your future slipping headlong
into an enigma capturing the place where my mouth
storms wild [in] uninhibited strength wiping away the light
in a sound where my heart
scans a little while the storm happening
like a flood rips through shards
magnifying the end of the moment.