all too sore for sound
// ​​​​​​​
I had a feeling, however briefly 
The matador to my Ferdinand 
Orion's alpha 
Red
Like those bloodstains on hard wood
I felt you fall
An arrow through the hunters right shoulder 
A 6:30 some phone call
// 
And I see you
Among a sea of seats you stand
This is no place 
Nether from 90 degrees
Skin shifted red
Flush
Yours replaces mine 
Hushed
//
I am coded in your handwriting 
You fill the space between the on and off 
You are nowhere 
But lay me down where you want to be
Under this redshifted aether
Still
All too sore for sound 
//
Open cut, the knuckle 
The dust settled,
Rust cauterized
More sick motionless
Too still
Nothing left to be less than 
//