by Nathan McCool
My home is at the heart of nomadic wandering.
If you were to understand
this kind of isolation, you too would
have to be the lone survivor of
All the wars now are fought endlessly
among my triple brain stems.
These wars that will take all my love.
These wars that time and dimension
These wars that will leave me alone –
the last thing walking in the shadows.
My dearest friends, my greatest loves…
You know me. But you can not know
what is in me. That I see everything
at all times;
even at the ruination of the world
and the resurrection of my body.
How the beating of my two hearts
elapses in the lacuna where dual suns shine;
echoing with all the death in my wake that could
engulf all of time and space.
For all my love and good acts,
there is perhaps an even
Because I’ve seen it all.
And I can tell you that I am alone.
Gallifrey is gone.
Nathan McCool is a member of Blood Into Ink and the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective. You can find the haint, dusk, and sizzling of his concrete snares on his blog, Mist of Melancholia.