Empty Full

By Ally   

So manufactured.
Headless bodies---headless bodies everywhere.

I hear the faint sound of struggling
in each little naive argle-bargle
dying to be released from the larynx.
The space I am conversing with is succulent
with droplets of cognizant mutterings
so that even then,
I prefer the full emptiness over

I grab onto those shoulders, rattling and
the almost empty contents,
the soul pittering weakly with heart.
Tell me.
Why do you fill your mind with such…

I bolt upright, a sting in the flesh of my elbow.
and you,
breathing with soft puffs.
So I place my ear next to your head,
I hear the roaring tidal waves
crashing against the cliffs.
So natural.

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