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You're that failed movie in development hell
But I'm about to greenlit you
Today is your lucky day
And so is tomorrow
I took out the hollow
In your souls cadence.
Will Mercier Sep 2012
I was burning in my own torture chamber,
While you baked a pie and split it with your sister.
I never walked my own path, just where I was dragged.
You think I didn't eat salt and razorblades for breakfast?
The throbbing beat that is the cadance of my death
Is inaudible to you I suppose.
If go away is your mantra.
Excuse me,
I'll let you get back to meditating.
hear the music
It's funny, when we read.
One hears music of thought.
Light Clarinets with supporting Cello.
Five word sentences for now.
Smooth and gentle tones around.
Seeing the conductor's swaying arms.

We pick up the pace going fast.
Now violins playing quickly back and forth.
Sevens words at a time building expectation.

Nine words brings us almost to the great clash.
The heated strings of the instrument playing ever hard.
The horns gaining confidence and aggression with every second.
Cadance. Cutting into the music. Stopping. The Flow. Chopping. Arms of the conductor. cease.


Soft wind instruments singing
Trombones and Tubas lumbering in.
Cello, Lute, and percussion adding.
                                                         ­                               *Whistles of the Flutes

Quickly rising
    as the music picks up tempo
              the conductor with more vigor
                           The energy rising and rising
                                                     sporadic outbursts
                                                       ­         heading towards the
                                                             ­                     CLASH of the symbols
Now the music and words flowing with no breaks and stops always filling your ear with this continuous overwhelming yet pleasurable sound of thoughts and ideas bouncing around the walls of your skull the never ending music coming down gluing you to your seat with a cacophony of chaos that makes you read on and on until it
                                                             quickly
                                            descends
           ­                      into
              complete
stillness.


Blank balloon of silence punctured by the needle of a Oboe

                                                          ­                                   Sliced by a harp
The symphony of words is endless.
Am I the only one with an imaginary orchestra in my head? Yeah? Oh, okay
z  Jan 2015
a violent room
z Jan 2015
A violent room
Feeling lonesome
A cadance, an essense
Gnashing leaves
Shh, be quiet
A cat shrieks
The bed creaks
A house slams
Silence
Helen Oct 2014
So many times, she had fallen down
as each blow sent her to the ground
She swallowed the blood from her lips
while mentally tallying her chips

As each verbal knife serrated her heart
she managed to save just a small part
and tucked it away beneath her soul
knowing it was needed to make her whole

She kissed lips that poisoned her mind
digging fingernails into hips not so kind
Alternating between Heaven and Hell
the music changed, and she could tell

By the slow cadance of a sultry beat
and the true meaning of passions heat
she took steps that were just a chance
She finally learnt she knew how to dance

— The End —