Thursday, February 4, 2016

dismiss

No cannot
Done with you
But I was 
Tell me something
I take your silence
As you're dead with it dead
As one who speaks from fleshless speech
No comfort of a walled echo
Not a sound thing sound sound vibrated thing
Speak
Tell me the words
Fit them in an order in which I can try can try can try I will try to understand
Done
Words too hard to produce
When your chest is tight with grief sadness
A dark stamp of sickness weaved into my heart thing heart strings 
Sick, my body hums it
The cells of my being buzz with the pain
Running through my flesh body thing
Head fast with flash hopes fears
Can I talk with you?
Will my honesty be dismissed?






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