Frustration
Emptier than a night Internally:, Voices they were supposed to
come home, write in permanent ink (they scream) but didn’t.
A silhouetted frame that’s with words like becoming slashed into pieces
until there’s nothing left. the memories
That breath that was supposed of when the grains to come but instead you drowned
into melancholies instead. of your love
Lungs only functioning as slip in an obligation now.
As my salt stained lips between from the closed eyed
tears quiver your intricacies conclusively and lacerate you. Cutting your eyes,
Face now sculpted they beginning to tear up with the into a mountainous landscape.
Hard and cruel. remembrance
(If you keep looking like that of the past, anxieties of you’ll get stuck with that face forever.)
The caves of my expressions the future. become closed off.
Blocking the winds of Externally: concentrated emotion and purpose.
Mold eating away at O glass thinking.
Filling the cracks that V ideas were meant to.
Mouth a river blocked E by a dam of drunk beavers
who chip through the R grain of me like termites.
My sentences losing their S structure, incoherent.
Going against the grain, T chipping away parts of
myself , no one bothering I to pick up splinters and
pieces. Time running out M as feet step away, display unappealing, my stomach U a blender of disease, then vomiting
all over my damn worth. L Trembling in a puddle of anxiety,
I then take a breath…… A but drown in that puddle as needles stab at my thoughts I and re-sew me into a uneven quilt.
With no protection against O the weather, it forms me into what
it chooses. Holes, cracks, N and chips make me, dirt and maggots
living inside them. N Not to say maggots are bad…
They clean away the N dead parts of me.
Clearing N away the
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