Of the nylon nets you cast
to try and search for golden trinkets
polished in soot
And through the yellow pages you flip and
the numbers you dial
to deliberately hang up on one name.
It exists as your diminishing sight
like all the colors your human eyes
will never see.
Echoes.
Of all the radio frequencies
you try to blur within
And the weakened pillars
of your mind you try to paint
They stay upright and
tight-ly wound to your
blemished psyche.
Impoverished, like me
you try to get your
comfort back.
Like me,
you never had any.
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