The Echo

I am the one
That helped pickle
Their organs,
That set fire
To their insects,
Slit cuts like a collage

And shipped questions
To the back of their minds

Without warning.

The charcoal black nightmares
Scattered like dancers
On huge open stages,

The quench of belonging
In mouths that tickle sour,

It’s all here in your bibles,
Your friendships forever,

Your quicksand emotions
And the oceans we float on,

Inbetween us the landslides,

The differences and hollows
The sinkholes that we balance
On tomorrows, yes, the basics.

I am the one
That helped pick up
The broken,
That sweetened
Their stories
To sleep sound through the night

And I took my percentage
To the dogs and I spent it,

Without warning,

Without warning,

Goodnight.

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