pickling in a jar of relief

this morning i tried to remember your voice.
it's already lost its sharpness in me.
like i never hear my own voice,
i know it
but never so clear.

today it had the air of there, filling my lung with salt.
sinking into a fridger
sit still on the shelf
then slowly getting moldy

them

looking at them
my lungs get heavier
or perhaps my ribs shrunk

they are strange disgusting but familiar

'i would never have chosen them if i could have'

bring black and amber
next each other

then i run run miles away from them
that is how i want to see them
in a distance
a dot
an abstact existance

you are but that's all.

how do you count time

some count minutes and seconds

for some, memory wouldn't

i feel my stomach

my father is putting on his false teeth

far but close

shrunken jumpers