Literature
Give You A Run for Your Money
Books
Paper
Scissors
PicturesAll them piles
Remnants of bad poetry
lingering from the back of
the mind that sits between
the void and the lightDust motes reflect
the pace of the one-track mind
sometimes them people
them people I'm with
quick-witted as they are
rolling their eyes
clicking their tongues
Phantoms of strangeness
Can't believe they're like the dust:
strange,
oblivious,
cunningEnters you
to block your breathing
to block your thinking
till the heart stops beating
till you stop suppressing
till you stop hurting.
