Dead Connect

Between those invisible moments of silence,

You gratefully urge for conference that blows in my uncollected guilt.

Our words resort to the violence of metaphors that mean not what we think but I try catching the openness of analogies. Off within known pulses and intensities.

You wrap your senses with the phantom of my indifference while I harbour muted thoughts and exhaust them with poor, cold, tawny experiences.

Deadness is a rare function, livid and beautiful.

I urge you this time, like everyday.

To stay more with this dreaded deferral, what if our voices disperse and defect.

I still spare my life beyond; I try to live through this dead connect.