Nature’s Twisted Mess

The sound that can’t find me,
alone in the room,
a consumption of emptiness,
no longer reminds me of you,
a degree of hallow
that envelopes me too

I long for the void
that comforts
in twine.
I stave 
for the darkness
that takes me home.
You fight 
for the light
that blinds your own.

A discovery of a place
I think is my home,
that shallow space
with bags of worn
shone
thrown
to the unknown.

Their soulless vessels
dominate the nest.
There you are,
the clever
little cuckoo
nature’s twisted mess.

Pushed from the rest,
your absences
is my peace,
peace is assumption,
assuming a compete.

A sound that lingers
sweet to taste
echos un-reach.

I’m alone
You’re opaque
diluting at the seams,
blinded to the cuckoos’
monstrous scheme
that Mother Nature’s 
twisted mess
soars 
a cuckoo’s nest.

If only you had taken
taken the
the quest,
if only you would had abandoned 
wash me ashore,
if only you could have
spare me,
spare
from the rest.

that Mother Nature’s brilliant twist 
to soar 
a cuckoo’s nest.

My decay
is growth,
rotting away.
Dead pieces of you
erode to stay.

The sweet taste of irony
the ironic detachment
when it all comes
undone,
bleeding at
the core.

Separate from the quest,
that the empty sound
finally
reaches me 
embedded to the ground.