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My pieces slip out of the hole in my head And they float away always just out of grasp The silence is pulsing; my words are now dead. The soul leaked outward though my blood was not shed And seeped through the ground, a melted moaning rasp My pieces slip out of the hole in my head Since I had not mine, he was the life I led Until the spears he spoke brokened the heart’s clasp The silence is pulsing; my words are now dead. Crumbling lexicon, babbling gibb’rish instead-- Dizzy fall. His glass eyes were widen and gasp My pieces slip out of the hole in my head I run, spilling remnants where, as I (were) tread Haltingly, I faultingly sputter-stutt-spasp The silence is pulsing; my words are now dead. I fall and watch him watch, the glass without dread Once was the soul-spears-scalp-glass-and-ev’ry-asp-- My pieces slip out of the hole in my head The silence is pulsing; my words are now dead. -LP
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Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 6:46 PM UTC
awkward Silence
My pieces slip out of the hole in my head And they float away always just out of grasp The silence is pulsing; my words are now dead. The soul leaked outward though my blood was not shed And seeped through the ground, a melted moaning rasp My pieces slip out of the hole in my head Since I had not mine, he was the life I led Until the spears he spoke brokened the heart’s clasp The silence is pulsing; my words are now dead. Crumbling lexicon, babbling gibb’rish instead-- Dizzy fall. His glass eyes were widen and gasp My pieces slip out of the hole in my head I run, spilling remnants where, as I (were) tread Haltingly, I faultingly sputter-stutt-spasp The silence is pulsing; my words are now dead. I fall and watch him watch, the glass without dread Once was the soul-spears-scalp-glass-and-ev’ry-asp-- My pieces slip out of the hole in my head The silence is pulsing; my words are now dead. -LP
lame-poet
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Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 6:46 PM UTC
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