Helena Bonham Carter
by ThedominiqueofregressioN
There’s an eruption,
as delicate as mid-teenagers’
jeans could topple its ugliness
There’s an eruption,
turning the streets and its
cigarette butts upside down
There’s an eruption,
sprinkles of salt in
every man’s heart,
vivacious more than what it seems
There’s an eruption,
the veins of a business man
is clogged as he watches the graph fall
There’s an eruption,
Hemingway;
in another Earth
called for a shooting spree
all the way off to madness’ extinction
There’s an eruption,
the anxiety steams as some of us
chokes down and digest
the indigestible memories
There’s an eruption, all over selected
rooms of each suburban
addresses and houses
There’s an eruption, the words of some of us adhere
serves as the thick barrier
of revelations
buried beneath the soils of turmoils
and tumors residing inside our heads
There’s an eruption, it keeps up, stops, breathes,
stares, flashes, keeps up, stops, stares, flashes,
keeps up, stops, stares,
flashes, keeps up, stops,
stares, flashes, keeps up,
stops, stares, flashes, keeps up, stops, stares, flashes;
keeps up forever. . .