apr.2

the sounds fall from my tongue
but nothing my heart aches for makes an utter
lips forming empty circles, my touge lapping air void of voice
how have we failed
we had ripped through the stitches bound lips, resewn our severed tounge
and to what ends? to wag in silent acceptance, to hold for a frustrated release of condemnation and false happy endings promised with the speech starting with the ironic Once Upon A Time
these heart strings are pulled, again, yet as the fishlines tighten their irrevokable grip they cut, bite into chapped finger, the skin feathering into fragments of our beings to circle up into the wind
can you not feel it suppress can you not feel ur tounge ache can you not touch your hands and hold them gingerly hoping and holding onto what you thought you had
bring them to your eyes. the skin frightens you ...

another's person daydream and he slaughted through them