BoundOverexposed masqueradesSuppressed reality fadesOutspoken when speaking, but talking by the dreamweaver's string.Silent defiancewhile screaming out at the inward invariance-because grayscale is a bloodthirsty Bliss.
Black isn't Nothing.Ink-hewn handprints. Two torn hearts...... v a c a n t
A Glorious Revolution?Ink, tears-nothing flows out anymore.
HeartbeatEarthquakes in my headpounding through the violenceof what hasn't been said.Ever volunteeringbut never quite accomplishedin breaking the silent ringing.Still the masked shadows echoand still reality can't bear me soulas the words release a reverberating blow.
Irreparable.Growing this close:miracle or mistake?
And I Wonder.The tiniest tonesthe insignificant mannerismsthe almost careless demeanors-They could be inadvertent.Each little phraseanalyzed over and over again.As I'm about to pass something by, I catch myself-No! It might be inadvertent.Word choice.It means the world to you.Pain has changed you this way-you say you're quite inadvertent.You hate to say what you don't meanbut you won't trust your truths to the hearts of others.So tell me, darling, won't you please share-how am I supposed to know if you're being defensive or inadvertent?