There are moments when all I seek is to listen to sad songs. Pouring their melodies from my eyes when I can no longer cry. I’m back to my writing book because out of me overflow motions of emotions and I’m a ship lost at sea… Hear my breath like crashing waves as my spiritual home crashes and burns. The sacrifices are the wooden pyres built from the wreckage. I thought this was the one, but nothing was salvaged from the wreckage. I’ll listen to acoustic melodies that sound like raindrops dropping their souls into saturated ground—flooding—and I forgot you’re not to swallow air. This memory is choking…me.