of voids and visions

vii.

she says,
you need to let go of it.

i say,
when?

she says,
when you be(lie)ve,
only then.

i say,
but it doesn't want to
let go of me.

so i offer to tell her
a tale woven with
parasitic intimacy

of the disembodied
voice and
the limbless
thoughts (i wish
they had feet but
even then they
would refuse to run
away)

i'm halfway
through when
she stands up
to leave

i ask her to
take it away
but she says,
i have no space

and i think,
neither do i

but they say,
don't worry:
you'll make some
for us tonight.