Wednesday, 13 July 2011


No comfort from words. No comfort from monks. Not moms or hooch, no comfort. Dolor forms sorrow, prolongs lost fog. Womb forsook, bosom shook. Blood. No hold on tomorrow.  Oh God, how? How to comfort, how to show sorrow, pool sorrow? No words of comfort. Don’t! Tomb soon. How long? Tomorrow. Croon songs of sorrow. Howl.

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