there's nothing there intact upstairs that could kindle phoenix prayer, our desires go a step too far to saying what it is we are so of late to immolate the self with altered mental state i have made my only goal, turning my sighs into a hole which i let the smoke console and fill, seal the void, mirroring the me destroyed when i allowed surrogacy to replace the self-sufficient me with a bastard embryonic self requiring only someone else to make me feel something more real than emotions now ethereal and water-based, these see-through feelings concealing what i must do to somehow replace one for two, to put things right and to remove these poems which always end with You
