Sunday, September 4, 2011

Assumptions

White powder fills my mouth.

I have ground something.

Something finer than
Either of us have felt before.

It is something organic
Something bodily destroyed.

It is my own teeth
Transformed into expressiveness.

I am not what you think I am.

I am heavier
Angrier
Finer
Dispersed.

I am less.

I am much more.

I'm really good at the things I hate.

I hurt less than I like to admit.

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