"When we can no longer dream, we die" -Emma Goldman

Sunday, June 6, 2010

the words hit the page and splash
they melt down the sides
sprinting through the margins towards oblivion
they scream their message till they cant make any sounds at all
the sky is cracked, they scream
the sky is cracked, the sky is going to tremble, they shout
they can be heard but they are not listened to
their colors mean nothing
they swirl together like tastes
so much better than vanilla ice cream
their colors mingle and make small talk until they have a conversation
striping, taping, polka-dotting it all
left and right
metallic smells fill the pages
the sky is cracked, they scream
the sky is cracked, the sky is going to tremble, they shout
i'm listening, i'm looking, i'm here
but no one else is

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