'Talking to Myself'
By christy
Sometimes when I ache, when I fall face-first into the ass of anger, thoughts gush passed my teeth drowning ghosts. My voice is wind whipping flame, earthdark tongue cracking stone. I speak the words to taste them, practice their parade in rusty metal, gratify my ears with wicked hisssssssses. I spit them at memory, at nothing, at a reflection where smoke trails blacken lips before they are once again swallowed into my brain for safe keeping. Written January 9th, 2002 © on Jan 09 2002 12:38 AM PST 0 • 10
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"Sometimes when I ache,..."