Dirty little hammers

gritty, my old friend. hello, ‘ello you fucking scratching things. i remember the walls and the pain of it but i couldn’t cut you out. we can bless each other in fallacy, but i refuse to not feel rough tears and forensic emotions we buried in a box of scarred fears. we reuse those old habits as if half smoked cigarettes will really satisfy. it’s still nice to pretend we know how to care but more than I can bear, this burden of dropping homes and skipping stones across blurred visions that surround our losses. Bare that broken heart and collapsing mind, evangelical evocations ring clearly in and out of this place. i smell the hate that drives this damage and it makes me stupid drunk with paranoid afraid. who the fuck am i to say anything anymore? what’s speech, when what’s said is a stain, stigmata we’ve carved into our hands. cold steel barrels are deep dark mouths hungry for your empty bliss. i’d give it all back to find your tears on a letter in my pocket. days of yore yawn ahead and i have rinsed, repeated, repented. find us slowly, or not at all. we are still digging our way out of the morass of nonsensical predispositions. I find all of this pain fucking objectionable. i’m tired from the fall and i will call out for help, by God. i have to believe i know i’m not alone. so touch the scars and remember where to find that haven we’ve all dreamed about. Tattoo your words on this world and grab it by the throat, but gently, as if a lover. it’s the only way to stay sane when broken. i wanted you to know that i lost, but found some twisted form of peace. i’m grateful that it was you. you know me though, i will refuse to stay down. i will arise and remember that broken can find fixing when acting on a love that’s been gone too long. arise, that’s a good place to start. pick up that dirty little hammer and do your worst boy. needles and preparation. i’m finally ready for absolution.

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An old punk trying to make sense of what I see and hear and think and feel. Words pulled from the ether. Introverted agoraphobic explorer.  Hockey and food junkie. Constantly recovering from this human condition. Find more at http://www.ramjetpoetry.com