Throat threaded up thoroughly,

Stitches stretched strictly.


Breathing breaks oaths and promises,

Whispering white lies to the empty winds.


Taut tightrope taken down,

Tightly knotted around my head,

In my mouth,

So that I can try to-

Try not-


Try not to trip up,

A balancing act.


Broken sentences sit in my subconscious,

Never to be seen or said or sought after.


My head reels and rocks at the thought 

Of revealing my risky thoughts that ramble on inside my brain.


Hands hung loosely behind my back,

Holding back to inhibit and hinder hopeful whims to be written on loose leaf wide ruled sheets in ballpoint pen

As to never be read to be spoken to be heard.


My ideas are rated stringently,

And if you don’t fit the parameters

There are censors involved.


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p.p2 {margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; font: 12.0px 'Helvetica Neue'; color: #454545; min-height: 14.0px}


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