Wednesday, September 14, 2011

inside this cavity,
a jagged caress bludgeons the insides of my ribcage.
my spirit rotten with anxiety,
tired of work, but addicted to escaping it.
and you, with your niceties as broad as the Great Wall.
Blocking the lines of communication at the brink.

We could become a war,
and no one would know until the treaty.

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