Monday, 10 September 2012


Uncertainty is a terrible thing
It lingers awkwardly beneath the skin
Biting lips to stop the words you
Need to say but never do
We have internalized and
Compartmentalized problems and
Buried them beneath the sinew
We feel it in our bones that
Are stark against the red of blood
That clings to our being and clots
The thoughts that pulsed so sensibly
And suffocates until red-faced choking
On the vile that does spew of
Anger at our half formed truths
Circumstance is strange, I am more
Angry at myself then I ever was with you

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