There is a certain loneliness
that lurches beneath
my bedroom door,
the sort that stockpiles
itself upon my pillows
attempting to pierce my tender flesh,
the kind that, if given the opportunity,
would swallow me whole
from inside out
Settling into my silence
there is no match to deter me
from the strength of my bleeding heart
I lie, saturated...
It is here that I give birth to my death.
It is here
that I find the breakdown of what must remain,
in proper burial,
and how to leave it behind,
in tribute...in transmission...in transcendence.
Still photo by Shelby Cook from the art performance "Visitation Station: Breaking Beta"