where have you gone?
what have i done?
what seemed a fleeting disturbance
continues to gnaw within my viscera
and your ward, she nips at my ankles without provocation
(two weeks already? the silence was a calming routine)

where am i now?
what have you done?
this abstract novel is being erased
forcefully and sloppily,
holes being burnt in the paper of my memory

i write letter after letter, the recipient MIA
never an envelope considered
but a fiery future to anticipate

it seems what you told me must all be approved
(tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies)
but you know how i feel about that, don't you?
i've shared what i could, gave what i had,
was it not enough ?
(i fought the law, the law won)

that victory, so bittersweet and fleeting
i lost the war
are you just a casualty? am i?
i'm sorry

if I gathered every apology in the world to fix-
what to fix? the problem is unnameable
i would have cut off my hand before reaching out again
a thief with self morals
and yet here I am being poked and prodded,
disturbed into some form of action

and what now?
what indeed