Saturday, July 23, 2011

Painting A Canvas With An Endless Palette

Glass eyed views of distant news.
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Like a fist smashing against brick-

skin bruising-

blood spilling over-

cracking bone-

flesh pulverized into uselessness.
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every useless excuse and mine.
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What she said is not important.
It's what was meant.
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Surrender can only be determined by one person.
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A constant process of renewal.
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What is real? What is left?
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I am the only one holding myself back.

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