Singing for No One

Poetry without emotion.

A song,

stripped of its desire.

The only Holy place

is immolating,

so, we wait

for our turn

to burn.


simple as a whisper.

Spit a little lie into the air.

Substance is a scent we’re recollecting,

reaching out and finding nothing there.


We got our signals crossed.

Was I sending?

Were you receiving?

We found ourselves


in a galaxy of stars.

I reached out

and grabbed one

and it burned me.

Not a tragedy;

this is how we all go home.


Sing along.

Use the words you know.


HG – 2019


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s