All day trumpets played,
Some imagined some mimicked
Some tense with anticipation
Trumpets and drums
Breath like razors
Painful and oddly auto tuned, both the muse
These hands try not to muffle the clarity of the situation
Each twitch an impulse to lash out
The anger artificially contained
One lull moment preceding...

My fight is gone
My patience tried
My tears are spent
My hands are tied
My muscles ache
My skin is burnt
My knuckles bleed
My morals turned
My back is bare
My mind is slack
My eyes are blind
Hopes all I lack

Former timber crumbles between thumb and forefinger ( Read more... )

I hide a cringe, bare a toothy grin and suppress remorse ( Read more... )

Arachnid fingers stalk hewed obsidian squares of interdependent thought ( Read more... )

One voice vigorously stifled ( Read more... )

Square head and a brick in each hand, I'm ready to destroys some perceptions ( Read more... )

It is currently 28 degrees in my work. I hate you Jesus.

Hello ( Read more... )

I would say things are upside down but that would be a lie. More accurately they have been inverted... then stretched, skewed, spun 79 degrees counter clockwise, swallowed, digested, shat out, turned into art and then burned to a cinder in the middle of a political revolution ( Read more... )