i took a break from those words that haunted my lights, my brights and every shade of grey. words that eviscerated and contorted my voice. left me wondering who was talking to whom.

i sat on a spate of grass, perched high up on a cliff. there, where language was obliterated by the howl of wind, i watched my cast-off words struggling in the chop below but felt no pity; let them drown in their own misery. let them bash against the rocks, let them split open; ragged rips and tears between each syllable.

This entry was posted in Agony and Ecstacy, Life, Poems, Uncategorized, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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