cracked the lines.
We cannot hear the voices anymore,
Like forgetting every day words, falling into the hell of getting old.
Turning over the sold thoughts and patented ideas, of the sellouts we turned out to be.
But you've got sunshine in your neck now,
And the hallows in your eyes are growing bigger than the hole you've got rotting in your chest,
The birds that used to sing are missing.
Held up by the sadness of the void,
The possibility of a future that now stands in the corner hissing.
So cut off your ears,
As not to hear those numb noises and fit them into your chest.
Fill the voids of missing puzzles now long put to rest.
Trying to find some distinction of heartbeat,
To whisper existence into the cracks where you can no longer sleep.
The maddening hissing that fills your ears.
Now nothing in your mind but a guest,
You're adding more sunshine into your veins.
Fading, falling into the rest of your half lived life.
Building black ships.
But there are no choruses floating through these airways,
To push you away.
You and I aren't poetry,
These Faces like animals,
That you cannot communicate with.
I see you, and you can't see that.
Sometimes I think I see your skeleton,
moving without you now.
Filled with unintended silence
Of words that your tongue would never allow.
The poetic lust of a hemlock flowering,
Coupled with your maddening hissing.
Distorted by my animal face.
I fear that you'll see me,
Some day.
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