sin slamming fist into wall
laughing madly dying with a facemask,
dreading tomorrow will never come,
hoping for flight and wasting all hours
spinning useless wheels,
synapses are firing machine guns;
no one is home,
eating the meager by the mouthful
drowning on words, asphyxiation
comatose tomorrows, endless winter sorrows,
solace in a question
no answer -- there is no one home,
slamming fist into wall
asphyxiation --
breaking everything of value
laughing madly trailing sighs and sorrows,
there is no end
there is
nothing
pounding sadness into concrete
with all the brutality of man
I am.















Comments
--
The world is an eraser for these words
- Jack Kerouac
we must destroy that which contains us
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