A sparrow hawks cries on early briefed mornings. Lips wrapped tight too, fat cuffed hands. Bruises realize pain is part of the plan. A script burdens out, smiled teeth knocked out. Plague, such stories of water flowing silently. Pray fewer hands feel comforted while wrapped in thorns. Stories of families have gone and turned to despair. The measurement placed; a brief cold stare. Liars must not fret; higher punishment is waiting for you yet. Lonely tears ripple automatically. Used for company, electrified statically. Sudden crimson forests grow sprouts of pain. With hallucinogenic mushrooms with all the same name. Big obstacles stare through spectacles clear, rise flat line, and comfort the fear. Is one hug enough through separated feelings? Enter books of words; they stack to the ceilings. Chattering teeth open sewed lips. Extension of legs, rip through sewed hips. Shy to care, adds one to stare. Stories of lifetimes through one strand of hair, tell stories of men’s lies. Dead men do not care. A threaded bottle of weaved liquor hits, land shyly once again between your fingered grips. Dark light shines simply through the hole of pleaded hearts, crying. Denial denotation results in eventual spying. Peep my window sill, for ripping chest have failed. Hateful notes of regret have soon been mailed. Sharp, poked, stabbed hearts, leading to impalement.
January 30, 2010