HellBent
Inside, crushed like a bug
In a tin can, life welling up
Between scarred empty fingers
Glance down at the half-empty cup
And catch breath, taut with a twang
Slice through perceptions
To dip conscious thought
Inside, crushed like a bug
In a tin can, tears flowing down
Into lifeless white palms
Carressed by the winds
Sorrows in mortal form
She is sweet and I am empty
But for this tin of voice
White dust flies pale
And time shuffles through
The billowing curtains
Night sky sighing
I am in pain, but she it at peace.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
I'm bad at vulnerability I like to tie off places Where mess might hide Might wander in to introduce themself Until I'm all kn...
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She shares the blame For Adam's fall So secure, attractive Brilliant in a certain view The essence of Enlightenment I see her raise her ...
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To slumber And not be tossed about Like an incomplete formula In the mind of a mathematician Is a good thing The solution Lies in reme...
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Late It's practically done, more or less Plus or minus it's my best Effort if you squint and side-eye It. I'm sure it will get b...
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