Monday, September 12, 2011

Slipping Through Hands

because we're the sand
i'm having an emo breakdown
because i'm emotional and unstable
in these four walls, my thoughts reach for the door
they guide to where life could take me
if i'm not the blasted grave me
if i stop praying for you to save me
and somewhere decked out in the skin from the thousand souls whose lives i changed is that organic wholesome someone who will paint the thousand pictures, where i'm all in them, that change the way people explain how they function their brain and brace themselves for all the impending pain.  and the moon will stop making the tidal waves that smash our brains and turn them to the shore where they're walked on all the more.  all our senseless spectators amazed and taken back my the sea.  but not by you and me.  the tiny stones that make our brains, sticking to their skin, there until they swim - so we can end up in that angry sea, getting thrashed back to a shore that's pulling for you and me.

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