The Apothecary

not quite here
not quite there
not quite anywhere
ever again
maybe never
so definitely
defining what may never be

oh, how the cliff tempts the tired
with the promise of a solitary step

hold my breath for the second time
converse with clouds as they paint a sky
and taste the rhythm of the landscape's heart
preached to perfect, pitchless art
seeing noises in the fog
the timeless clocks
they rip apart
feeling voices
reaching out
in fiction i am scattered now
feeling
reaching
breathing
healing
no
time
stole
me
too
long
gone
home