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Silence Exile and Crumpets
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Tuesday, August 20th, 2013

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We are all broken shards. Each other's wrists
get slashed each time we move. We breath harsh words
poison to our own ear. We squelch through turds
pray that they are not ours. We keep long lists

of who said what to whom and what they meant
precisely by its subtext. Analyze
each word that'S spoken. Everybody cries
and every tear is special. Time is bent

each crisis comes round twice. It's such a bore
recycling one's own anger yet one's back
is sore from last time, raw, torn and bruised black.
This cannot be forgiven, and means war.

We interact for hours remain alone
mistake each other's torment for our own.

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