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// what is left of puddles
My head is encased in a vise unseen
My scalp prickles where my hairline laughs
My ears ring with the sound, all of her
She whispers kind needles into a doll.
I shake like a sphere behind my facade
Every weak muscle shaking off fiber
Like a cat in a bath--- I screech, but silent.
My throat is stuck to my jaw, and so
My voice is garbled through a crystal tube
It is a high frequency, all disregarded.
I do not know where the pain is coming from
I do NOT know where the pain is coming from
I DO NOT KNOW where the pain is coming from
I DO NOT KNOW WHERE THE PAIN IS COMING FROM
I am my own doll, I've washed away fortune.
I've taken my toe to my mouth in lieu
Of a tongue slippery and swollen
Brittle, brittle thoughts and empty dreams.
I do not know where my voice went
I lost it in a rainstorm, while I was singing
I dreamt I was a puddle evaporating.
And maybe it's just pain, maybe it's just life
But my thoughts are coded in a bad way
I don't understand, and my pride is broken.
Is that what makes a man? To stay whole?
Lovers break girls.
It Is one train to be unique, another to be alone.
It is not good to be alone in the universe
In my bubble it is good, it is peace
But I am greater than a bubble.
But still I am empty and frail, and alone
I am without blood or kin or kind
I am with pain
b e mccomb
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