the missing

the missing are everywhere within
up from my heart to my brain
black spots in a blank frame
wounds sparkling on my skin

the empty spaces
that can't be filled

and i grow old - i shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled
and i shall grow - the old bottoms of my rolled trousers

the missing are in me
they are me
and they keep my-
self together

absurd

that cliff-hanger feeling in the neck
always about to black out
sometimes it,s really hard to tell
me from myself