whispers of untrained pacifiers
 wheeling slowly on the
                       road to semblance,
                       sit down on the tombstone.
 revisit what was at your
                       grace. the left and right side
of your head turning into
                       the reflections of light,
                       trip the pain and let it fall ,
watch it as it grows legs
                       and sever any satisfaction that
follows you into the
                       abyss.
                       the big hole that you think
 will bring salvation to us all.

                       it is just a different side
of the nature of your soul.
                       it is the emptyness at the
 end of the tunnel. your
                       washing the walls of
the tunnel to get rid
                       of any sort incorrect
 pattern but you only drop
                       and never get back up.
                       lying in your own sweat.
lying in your own life force
                       fencing your thoughts for a dollar.

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