The Crush

Yes, I'm surely fond of high walls.

Crushing on them. Hard.
Over and over again.
Crush, crush.

Till my bones just carve their way out of my skin.
Undressing my unloved frame.
Desperately, scraping their honed ends
against the cold-stolid bricks.
Over and over again.
Crush, crush.

It's raining tonight,
you are not here,
and my thoughts don't want to stay the night.

Aflame, withered dust thrust in suicidal rage
into a wintery, oblivious battlement.
The Shattering, Unconquerable Wall.

Farewell, bones. What a waste of a life.

But what's left in this vast, dull horizon,
what's going to catch fire
in the ashes wailing inside?
What, if not a wide ocean
of impossible, fatal walls?

Nothing else for these boney embers
rushing towards all I will never have.

Farewell, innocent senses.
Crush, crush.