comes as a slow, droning ache
in the recesses of your mind
you cannot find – eyes open
lips pressed this thought
catches and consumes itself
dry – you start a fire – ignite
but burn – razes and singes
the peripheral areas – these scars
a motif – remembering what was once
-remembered – never diminishing
only burgeoning and encroaching

maybe there is no escape
this tearing apart and falling
back into this gyre
pulling and twisting
coming as a slow, droning ache.