disasters

None of the senses can come to it

Used, at last, to your absence

Places to look for your mind

We fall asleep with one hand under our head

There is no limit to nothingness and dust

After you left i did just that

Coulda woulda shoulda

What can we say

If we met would you know me

Little by little and then not even that

Not an uncommon notion

It's not what it looks like