Together

I sit.

Water glances my window(s)

touches with tender

With

a bit

Just a bit.

of god in each drop

Each whole.

I touch the stream of water

The faucet

That old

That familiar

cold.

The water runs

wildly

Down my hand,

Wrist, and

Arm.

It is backwards veins

It carries no life.

No code.

There sits in my mind an idea.

It is prehistoric.

It is so clear.

It sits in me and does not move.

I cannot tolerate it, but tolerate it is all I do.

I cannot say the idea.

I cannot whisper it in the ear of nothing or something

for fear of

.

.

..

How could one put into words

what it is

to have no words.

what it is

to have no voice.

what it is

To be so unspeakably alone.

Unspeakable because

unspeaking is what it is.

We sit together.

But there is no together.

that is what

that is why

(S)S S

(I) I I

(T) T T