what happens when the
auto pilot stops working,
when there’s no longer
comfort in your mother’s
voice, touch; when the words are
hiding and it’s all too much and
all you can do is roll up into a
child-ball and wish for an infinite
hill? will the words i love you
ever hold meaning again?
will this vessel be loved, be held, be
filled, regarded, respected, wanted, seen?
these are the questions.
these are the basic needs.