Truth is

I am numb.

From the thunder,

The wicked thrumming,

In the humming of your

Ghost toward here; donning,

Swirling,

Curling;

A wisp of dream,

A toppling of a tower

From memory.

From reopened 

Scar. Pouring outward,

I’m dead from fear. 

But nearer

To

Some 

God.