Grand (after Charles Bukowski’s “the crunch”)

Araba Dennisthere is a loneliness in this world so great

a chill so heavy, sticky running down the cleft of my lips

to seal them shut

to seal me shut

there is a loneliness

there is a loneliness in this world so great that I have felt it in the dead breath of a boy that will never grow past four shots of vodka and a car going two miles over the limit

so great that each scale of skin is seeped with saline, my own and my mother’s, my sister’s, my lover’s and

they are made

of me

they are me and i ate of their pain as wave to shore

there is a loneliness in this world with the grandeur of silken linings in coffins, of unopened letter on eggshell whites, of unwiped tears through nine layers of mask,

of friends saying goodbye before ever saying “i am sorry”

there is a loneliness in this world so great

that atlas himself cannot shrug under the weight

cannot bear to ignore the cracking of bone against bone against bone

there is a loneliness so great

so great

that i myself cannot bear the weight

that i

myself am weary, am weeping, wilting

that I am infinite.

that I am alone.

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