dissent;

July 21, 2011
I scramble for air through the imposing thicket, struggling for purchase, for a lifeline that can string me up and take me out of here, out of this mess…
But the sky is too dark, the world too cold, and as I lay there choking on my own faults, I rip out an endless score of silent screams, of desperate begging for a savior that will never come.





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