damn it! drunk again

Was I reaching too far
Into the sandstorm-
Listening too hard for the calm, the quiet,
the digestable-
My filters failed
So I left you in my bed
and reached for the dead instead.

There was a time when
I dreamt of the dead often,
I knew them then
In a soft place where the
human voice was trivial and
Cast aside to make room.
I wanted them to continue,
the dead, those souls I once walked with,
or the ones I'd never met
but came to me through the memories of others.

I thought the written word
could contain them, keep them at my disposal
but my filters failed
They can only live on the periphery
of the human eye
and in the shadows that follow
these physical bodies that limit us.