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Feb 2014
My voice has receded
Dried up like some long forgotten fruit
Stinging in the ****
Tasteless monogamy
That is the day to day grind
       Plucking the plump paradox of petulant perturbed thoughtless beings
       From my conscious where they lie to the face of my muse
       Confuse me for someone whom cares about the humdrum
While I stray chasing rabbits playing hostess to a tea time of my own madness
Loosing the clock while fishing the fragrant mobs of ill minded twits
Whom twiddle their thumbs for enjoyment
Casting wide to find meaning, beneath the shallow face

No in my confusion
In my madness
I introvertly extrovert
Venting my frustrations behind the mask of my smile
Curling on the edges like some shark snagged toothed
Grinning that grin
That sets the tight line between insanity, and genuine
Where the fickle flock, preening their peacock feathers for attention
Infested with the vagrant lice of lesser men, itching to beat the weak with their superiority.

I watch the flicking flea ridden disease that is their affliction
Smiling that cheshire smile
Knowing that it is their own sickness
That will eat them from inside.
College parties apparently not my thing.
Emily Jones
Written by
Emily Jones  25/Cis/NORTH LITTLE ROCK AR
(25/Cis/NORTH LITTLE ROCK AR)   
439
   Paul M Chafer
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