Currently …

by cannabisara

My words are broken.
Technically I suppose most words are broken, in fact. But these fragments of my own unknown history enter through your senses to the brain and I wonder if you wonder from where it is they came. I, myself, ponder this frequently and most times quite uneasily. A jumbled, fucked up puzzle I attempt to piece together. To share or hide away from the world to weather the coming storms. Now the empty, relentless tides of my mind ebb and flow. My moon shines down it’s industrious glow, longing for company yet in preventative attempts to become exposed. To be or not to be in clothes. My heart is scathed and I, morose. I send it out to sea in a boat quite enclosed for healing. Protection from the known-so-well thievery direction. My mind, stuck in a web of desire and deceptive remorse. My heart is gone.
My words are broken.

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