43: skull warping crush

My sad heart crawls toward ecstasy,
parched unknown flesh trapped in torso,
thighs, pale arms unkissed
by warming rays of light.

Long tapered fingers grasping air
in hope of contact. Dusk-caked
feet, broken nails, tired soles
one in front of the other,
calling for direction, in trackless
pine forests on limestone plateaus
washed with dry lightening thunder.

Lips cracked salt-stained from tears,
the only water to be felt, coursing down
sunken cheeks lost to spring rain smiles.

Mind and thought memories locked within
the skull-warping past into present futures
where no one thought can escape
from the maelstrom clamor of the collective
grief shielding the soul from the terror
turmoil of the crushing moment
when all was lost.