Climb the highest mountain, punch the face of god
In the confines of a broken memory
Moans.
Wincing
And pressing memory
Into a mold of
Scars and broken bones,
Torn skin and
Exposed flesh,
Not to mention the
Cascade of blood and
How it melded perfectly
With the waterfall
Of menacing self hatred.
I've cornered myself in
The confines of a
Broken memory
Where my thoughts
Were dead before they
Hit the ground and
You are comatose in
Your intellect,
Where boils fear to
Tread, feet stand
Upon the pinnacle from
Which you will someday
Fall from,
Into a sea of regret
Because what is life
But a pool of pity
We are always
Dipping our cups into,
To share with
Everyone else
Who isn't us.
Our lives are purged
From existence
Like a fetus
From a womb,
From the
Abortion clinic
That is reality,
Of which some of us
Have managed to avoid.
June 22, 2007
Suge
Wincing
And pressing memory
Into a mold of
Scars and broken bones,
Torn skin and
Exposed flesh,
Not to mention the
Cascade of blood and
How it melded perfectly
With the waterfall
Of menacing self hatred.
I've cornered myself in
The confines of a
Broken memory
Where my thoughts
Were dead before they
Hit the ground and
You are comatose in
Your intellect,
Where boils fear to
Tread, feet stand
Upon the pinnacle from
Which you will someday
Fall from,
Into a sea of regret
Because what is life
But a pool of pity
We are always
Dipping our cups into,
To share with
Everyone else
Who isn't us.
Our lives are purged
From existence
Like a fetus
From a womb,
From the
Abortion clinic
That is reality,
Of which some of us
Have managed to avoid.
June 22, 2007
Suge
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In the confines of a broken memory
In the confines of a broken memory