When I close my eyes
and stop breath
space becomes wider, like falling,
wider than the grey clouds
spread, uniform,
to the end of the world
like mud in water,
wider than you and I,
and loneliness is falling backwards
through the darkness of a void present
with this high pitched sound
of a whistle between two wires
so stretched that touching cuts.
I fall backwards, sightless,
in a dreamlike slow motion,
like not breathing,
and sometimes darkness is not
that anger springing from within,
upwards from your guts
with the sharp moves of a hungry wolf,
when you don’t know who is there
waiting in the dark, o so silent,
to hold you in your fall
when you close your eyes
and breath stops.

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