Saturday, June 2, 2012

I pass the time spilling words into an abyss. Spewing them effortlessly, but they fall in place. My tongue moves to no one. My tongue moves for someone. Someone who can't hear me. Yet it does not stop. It does not give up. Because something still sits like a spine in the soft tissue, backing the notion that that someone is hearing every word spilt. It's like whispering into darkness, just to get it out.


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