recovery

words
write themselves
on virtual pages
of non-existant
existing still
in the uttered unutterances
of throat chackras
full of unsaid things
unsayable even
in the day
of this night
of this day
of this night
of this day
of this night
so many string themselves together
distracting from the essences
of whatever it is that comes
from wherever it does
whoa
to finish the un
of not
what?
why
must i
put his
memory
in
the
metal
bin
of
thisturday
thaturday
what
makes itself
as offering
in the middle
of the
holy
knot
untying
its unbreakable
broken
promise?