to hold within the misery of intense affection held in shackles as they grow tighter with each shudder and jolt of the heart
the nameless whimpers of a sudden wave of cashing sound resonating throughout the temple we call home
hands empty yet they itch for holding on to something as if death wouldn't stand a chance if that were the case
can't shield the eyes from the bright lights because it gets worse when they are closed
always gave yourself to something so utterly lifeless; who saved you when you were left silently gasping for air?
have you ever seen the state of your soul or have you always kept the shoes in your hands just because the burning sand felt nice between your toes?
have you breathed the rough air enough to let your lungs sink so that the one who comes after you breathes in the sacrifice of your body?
it's the last shred of truth we hold on to in times when all the rust is painted with gold and silver waiting to be scrapped.
