even if i still dismiss your memory
i've kept of you a vague impression of silence
of stormy and profound reserve
i've kept only a functional ideal
and left you to your apprehension

i sought darkness elsewhere
and broke into the fake backgrounds of postcards
i've made no progress but attempted to invalidate
a hindering forever

i like that i have nothing to expect
i am becoming enamoured of this
vacational void
but then i've always enjoyed
the perfect order of desolation
the entrancing calm of hopelessness

i know not if we shared more than curiosity
but allow it to die
or i will tear open your reserve
and destroy my way to satiety

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