Damaged Broca
I dream.
Maybe, while braiding strands of hair—
Our eyes will be closed and our souls will meet
Will I be able to hear you speak then?
Or shall I reach into your mouth and connect us with string?
I’ll mend our flesh together and mix the dirt with us
Just so we can face the Heavens and sow our nails together
Up in the sky and constellations
Let's exchange secrets with the Dippers
And shout at the sun
I might just offer a shoulder and listen with deaf ears,
Cry crystals on Neptune,
Or maybe wish upon ourselves,
For the world is truly loud and your words are silent.
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