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Answers.

or at least questions

that resonate beyond screeching tires

tread marks left on over-heated tar

black top burning hard into my feet

still He can't hear

so i walk softly onto the grass

and rest beneath the weeping trees

that keep their branches high

even when the wind threatens to break them from their leaves

but i am not a tree

my roots are shallow and easily up-heaved

the storms clot my narrow veins

as my ulcered stomach fights to stay below my throat

every minute

every day

and when i bellow and fall

fists clutching tight to my sunken chest

i hope i am forgotten for my weakness

remembered only for the inquisition

i couldn't quite call a life

and i hope it crumbles so loudly

He awakes into existence

and maybe

if all the cards fall flat

and show their suites with pride

He will open his eyes

and maybe

if all the dice land with their highest count displayed

with abundance and balance

He will open his mouth to speak

and soil his virgin tongue


but god damn it


I could use those words right now.