October squalls

Wind, tunnels tornadoeselectric storms caress the desert,silence is the best.Whispers disappearin the voice of every day,I can’t hear your words,I can’t hear them above the noiseof normality.Sunday bells chime,you call my name across sky scrapers,empty beaches,oceans that go on for ever;but I still can’t hear you.Tree turns to gold leafanother autumn rises and fallsI am somewhere beyond lightand surf.Waiting for the cold,from a cold seeping throughcenturies of bone.Shuffled from sanctuaryto sanctuary, defiled bycity street lights, not listening,and I just don’t listen.Morning windows,sticky with night sweat I turn to youand find empty space.