Diana talks to me as a splinter gliding across my heart. There’s nothing sharp as emptiness, high contrast edges. Standing in comfort even under duress because paired is right and more to tame the boundaries fight. That darkness though, frontier hunter, seeping in from hunger, inevitable, so they say. And the splinter landing, stuck with improbable weight, doesn’t go aweigh but sinks, forced to rock. Singing sirens out of reach, some doomed cantor confided and the poison supplied worked in candour, assuring you good night. In time you’ll learn to die, where nothing, sharpened emptiness, will wait for you.

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