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Heart pieces mourn the advent of could have beens cutting if only with dull machete. Bloodied mess-- congealing in soupy puddles of memory. Maggot words filter through consuming deadened flesh, revealing jagged wound edge. Carrion lines Peck, peck peck swallowing bitter larvae before butterfly thoughts morph. Holes gaping holes pulsing putrid potholes decorating as minefields. Where are the hounds? Avoidance, a futile act, only clots the blood until next words read. Some hearts never beat as one. |
A look in this direction is chilling and your words absolutely invoked the emotion of a violent raw atmosphere. Reality can say whatever she wants so long as it's true. I feel like you are speaking for her quite well here and I am left stunned by this. Thanks for sharing. I was particularly moved by the bloodied mess and congealed soupy puddles of memory part. Jaycee that was hardcore. | Posted on 2016-05-17 00:00:00 | by lori_tab | [ Reply to This ] | |