those closer eyes and further hearts

“what became”, she says, “of those years?”
and i feel my eyes slowly pumping the boiling tar,
filtering into my throat like burned coffee

is it truly so inhumane
to hate
to desire the fall of another human?

the sky itself ennervating, salient fucker
gloating while i wonder silently
if my aorta has clogged for good this time

and i will regret,
and i will consider,
and consideration will remain my constant inquisitor.

outside of what i am stands a glass,
and on the other side of the glass stands the all of you,
but no matter how i tap, punch, gnash my teeth,
i remain as silent as that asshole on the other side.

slow drop
no bottom
no sharp suggestions
i can look at the sky for as long as i want.

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