My Heart is a little lion with Laryngitis. My Brain is running on idol and full thrust. My veins seep and rust. My Chest Cavity is in ashes that aches like raw nerve exposure. Shave off a shadow, to a building glorified beautiful escarpment, better than this excretion, an exclamation of a care- who, or what. Echo a curling, numbing, stilling silence. When your soul embarks on your journey of an off key chorus of focus, stands with you, loves you. I wonder if my heart has a hidden agenda or parachute, because it doesn’t have an outlet, just… industrial strength Velcro.

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