Saturday, January 10, 2009

real is never pretty

the remains
have stained
my picture perfect view
my heart's fists bruise my insides
on a slow ride
to nowhere
and you stare
make the fate of a faceless state
form every word pain uses
to become
concrete evidence
of the pounding hum
of constant
unyielding
agony
somewhere within me
someone
cries
out

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