I wrote you by accident
found you inanimate inside a ditch in my brain
swore to drain your essence from the pond of
similar wounds.
Summon my sadness and awaken my fury, you spoke
and I tried to listen.
The matter is always Time
like stubborn crickets in a big dark field.
They mention a hole at the center of everything,
a cosmic bundt cake.
Typical, they say to one another—
but we know better.
It was never sweet Time that we craved
but salty brevity.
Original doodles by: Manuel Bueno @manuelbuenobotello
Vngnza. 