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Feb 2015
The messages on the machine grow higher every minute
Kind and murderous regret seeps out of every ***** hole.
It was the love she wanted, something solid that could crumbled over.
Falling down to grounds untouched, none can build what they can’t reach.
The confusion that binds the air is untapped nitrogen, louder than
Ignition enticed passion with gratification marked on the words of a doubter.

The mailbox seems bigger every step out to out bind the air that cripples.
Bills collected and paid off prompt, aside from love threats from irate lover.
It was the love he wanted, something timid that would cross him over.
Break the will of destruction, **** it, feed it to make fool of the other side that was waiting
Behind the skin of the shadows breeds the intellect nigh cruel for a straitjacket cover.

The nails that tear off skin in nights of fighting with the grin of gleeful faces
And the tangling is a convincing dance, whether or not it’s consuming their sin.
Bare brinks of those fluorescent halos twisting about these sheets, writhing
For a broken whisper for when a truth is only wishful deceit- she wills to another
Lover, same faced and movements but calloused in the bodies of tormented temptation.

There was a time these words had meaning, over time they lose clarity and gain insight
To a negative double standing that bruises walls and flesh all the same.
They’ve lasted enough to know conniptions flared either silent or through second guessing
But see how nothing’s learned without pushing the limits of another youthful lesson.
She couldn’t listen to the sounds echoing outside this ‘precisionist’ prison holding in
So he wouldn’t utter truthful pieces she couldn’t see to break the shackles she had brought from the past.

© 2012
Neal Emanuelson
Written by
Neal Emanuelson  Amsterdam, Netherlands
(Amsterdam, Netherlands)   
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