a response to prayerless hopes

I knew you were high when I read your writing diminish, diminish us. I still thought what we had was chaos, chaotic, but it birthed our new world coherent. I read your destruction when you contacted me again, writing me high so it could be compartmented, so, ignored. But I resumed living the drudgery and feeling the defeated stench of black saltwater lapping our necks. I didn't care what you felt now, and I had nothing to say to you, so I could not write back.