18 April 2011

Scarred Lungs

All this frustration pounding on my chest
Beating through my heart and raping my veins
Tearing the walls of my lungs down
only to have them spit up unceremoniously
Stained teeth and frayed nails
Cuticles attempting to caress my knuckles
A scar left of centre that shouldn’t be there
Some that were earned and some for keeps

The mind continues to process everything
faster than it seems possible
but with an end result
an answer that is just out of reach
the solution that has greater than binary definition
creeping forth slower than concrete drying
within the steel frames of buildings
designed to insult god

You’ve built prisons of venison walls and crudité bars
Where poison is legal but not always
The people who claim to protect you are lying
through their wallets
Spend to survive and to make yourself ill
Deny it and be set free to live a longer prison sentence
The trap is infallible in design like infinity

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