Saturday, May 25, 2013

In which Tryph simply rambles

Soft warm tears cut a path down my cheek
Something inside feels sharp agony
Sometimes I wish I could slit my wrists and have all the words inside me pour forth from the wounds. *
The ache, the twinge, the sadness, the dark

Not sure where I was going with that.  Just some words that have rattled around my head for the last few days is all. 

(*I mean that as a pure metaphor, I'm not in any way suicidal.  Call it creative licence... I keep picturing myself, blood pouring into the keys of an old type writer, the type bars using the fluid as ink, slightly splashing and smearing as I typed.  Pretty morbid, huh? No worse than the car crash day dreams.  They freak me out)

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