Needing a miracle

It burns,

Aches in my chest,

This need still dances in a dead space.

The misty moon, once again, judges my breath.

The figure seems to have faded,

And my shouts echo through the street,

But here I lay, bare in the sheets.

Once, the scent of corpses seemed alluring

A shadow between worlds and sounds.

Now, I want to swallow it whole,

Obsessing over the trivial

Because it’s easier than facing the void.

Of course, bad luck leaves no trace of its making.

It just kills everything in its wake.