Sit still!  My mind says.  Close down and don’t open your fuckin’ eyes.  I’ll cut ’em out with my rusty old toenail clippers.  The strings holding my arms and legs together gives a slight yank!  And I fall on my face again.  Blood shot eyes with a heavy head that’s warm and fuzzy.  Slips in and out of the light.  Sound only continues to bother the skin as it crawls out from off the bone.  No shade needed – let roast the remaining thinking thoughts hopes and dreams.  Sickening to think of fantasies about the outside looking in, seeing through the colors of a happy heap of truly ungifted liars.  Such pretty creatures and made of man’s flesh and blood to only be bought to take anything but “sir”.

 

Can you breath?

 

I can’t.  I can’t stand to hold in the air that my lungs need so desperately.  Wasted temptation of pain and promise, kill me, kill me please to make sure I’m mending the cuts of purity on the outside.

 

Blessed be to only the stars and moon.

 

Love, riots and hand grenades,

 

Irish

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