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Din of voices crowding out thoughts Thoughts constructed of safety pins and toothpicks held together with spit Spit dribbling out of the hungry mouth that yearns for companionship Companionship which is desired but not truly felt Felt people saunter past, their fabric feet barely touching the ground Ground into a pulp are the vicious spiders of memory Memory is a tactile thing that turns in contemporary web Web of truths spinning and spinning beneath agile fingers Fingers dug into temples' throbbing ache of words words words Words are not enough to describe this mortal dullness Dullness like the din of voices crowding out Thoughts
0
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
No Man Is An Island and Yet Here I Sit Surrounded By the Sea
Din of voices crowding out thoughts Thoughts constructed of safety pins and toothpicks held together with spit Spit dribbling out of the hungry mouth that yearns for companionship Companionship which is desired but not truly felt Felt people saunter past, their fabric feet barely touching the ground Ground into a pulp are the vicious spiders of memory Memory is a tactile thing that turns in contemporary web Web of truths spinning and spinning beneath agile fingers Fingers dug into temples' throbbing ache of words words words Words are not enough to describe this mortal dullness Dullness like the din of voices crowding out Thoughts
sammmbee
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Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
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