This state of Reality

Related imagechoke the cool breeze into my harsh reality

for I belong to the bricks of the wall

the screech of my language, wrapped in the tongue of anatomy

producing dark curtains, throttling small rooms

the lines of my palms remain  a false alarm

haywire sky, haywire mind

I could hear my slow breaths now disappearing like the cold drizzle

insomnia.

Insensate, dead.

Lost in the murky woods, cutting my own throat

chopping my own sanguine state

chop, chop, chop, chop

And then lying as dark, pale, dust.

-MYVALIANTSOUL



 

14 thoughts on “This state of Reality

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