Mmh . . . God. Pack up and watch somebody else? Hold a gun to my head and force me into submission . . . force me to pay attention, or blow my brains all over this notebook page.
Maybe then the words I want will flow out of me—rampant like a disease—eating at the pigment of a memory I re-live, day to day,
but I'm not the only one.
MY HEAD IS A PIPE BOMB
There are approximately 6,808,651,482 people in the world,
Each one of them at some point feels the same stagnant monotony.
Contempt can lead to regret.
I regret nothing.
Apr 6, 2010
spoke
A curse I can comprehend licking my eyes
Suffering the silence of a razor denied
Open to wounding me—the disease I invoked
A merciful masterpiece; unable to console.
No one could understand when truth came alive
A single participant bound at the spine.
Far more than secret; God only knows
Too stunned to keep it, ten years below.
Now see the argument, now see the life:
Colour-covered flesh, sometimes crystallized.
Misunderstood the plea—caught unexposed . . .
The only things left were the words you spoke.
Suffering the silence of a razor denied
Open to wounding me—the disease I invoked
A merciful masterpiece; unable to console.
No one could understand when truth came alive
A single participant bound at the spine.
Far more than secret; God only knows
Too stunned to keep it, ten years below.
Now see the argument, now see the life:
Colour-covered flesh, sometimes crystallized.
Misunderstood the plea—caught unexposed . . .
The only things left were the words you spoke.
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