Friday, February 4, 2011

untitled

there are fields
which have trapped me
unfairly
and joys which
have stolen
the dyes from shirts
and drawn the second to last
breath from my
peace
i walk with legs
built on songs
sung underwater
by lost sailors encrusted
in stone
the same fury
that punches its way
out of a drunks skull
and turns a child
into
something frightening and
sometimes horrible
is in my lack of motion
it's in me sitting here
emptying a room
drawing conclusions

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