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Replying to a comment on:
mundane routine (Free verse) by justarandomtuesday
a split second, pathways meet across the sky
I look at you, your glacial green
lightning bright and fury
crashes in your eyes like some psycho flash heart attack
and in all that one second, full of screaming torture
every emotion spills out of its convenient little box,
bright wild colors of red purple black
that run together and create a starry silver,
blinding and completely erasing any rational thought
til all thatâs left is the extract of sick adoration
dripping off vital organs youâve claimed as your own,
but I have the claim check and I have the proof,
I want back what I once thought as mine,
but now that Iâve thought about it and now Iâm not so sure
come on, trade your ridiculous obligations
and surround yourself with thriving life
forget your cautiousness and any rationality,
take my hand, weâve only got one chance to ultimately end this
forget reasoning, take a risk and come with me,
fulfill the dream of violet blooms
dreams of drops of indigo
dripping drops of twisted combination
of love and hate and rattlesnake venom
trickles from the vile and into your veins,
like a vaccine that in a whirlwind of insanity
strips you of any ounce of sane you might have had left,
and I think Iâll crack my head against the concrete,
and as the fragments of emotion shower those whoâve vanished,
just think happy thoughts, skittles and eskimo pie
sun catchers, feathers, thoughtful wedding presents
sweet sounds of birds singing songs
brimming with subconscious messages
whispering, murmuring lies behind it all
you hear a voice like a whisper of painful truth and biting words
you must keep your soul bound in wire, stuffed in a box
no matter how much it burns, screaming to escape
and prove to a world of stainless steel toasters,
deep mahogany banisters that all this time itâs existed,
had a voice but so far suppressed, it can only end badly
someoneâs going home with two broken arms
and in that one moment all I can taste is the sound of your voice
all I can hear is the scent of what you left behind
in the meaningless resonation of your shocking blinding light
all I can feel is my own screaming,
and corkscrewed and spiraling into a whisper,
all I can see is the last of the lost
surrendering to being channeled back inside chain link fences
of normality and acceptance
they call to you, to me, to the sparrow still waiting for the sun
someone should tell him that itâs never going to come
as time drags you, willingly or not back to gloomy reality
mundane routine full of staples,
spiral bound notebooks, xerox machinery
the thunder strikes again, torrent streams of rushing water
I can hear it resounding inside my forehead
in explosions of bluish green ink weâre back in the second
a little different, slightly changed,
an ounce more chaotic has it has suddenly become
and just like that
and the second is gone
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