Alone in a bushel of crabs
Opposite directions attrack dispair
Onlookers disappear
Once discovered.
Like minds dont always think alike.
Troubled. In fear of tomorrow
While Hiding from today
In the shadows of yesterday.
Wounds once healed
Scabs peeled backwards
Leaving trails of sanguineous doom
Through the marshes of clothing
Scattered chopped and chunked
At my feet.
In the darkness, a trumpet plays
‘A Litany Against Fear-‘
A Christion Scott song,
With the valves of my heart
C flat.
In a major chord.
Soundwaves spiral silently
Into clouds of dust.
Hoarse.
Vocal paralyzing agents
Disperced mentally.
Since the beginning
Doubt lingered in the daytime
Usually around 5 oclock,
Traffic.
Allergies unknown.
No sucidal tendacies
Just tired.
Tired of the bulls- shit
Smeared all over these walls!
As of now, this is the only place
I can call home.
