19.9.09

Cocaine.
Sidewalks.

Like honey,
The whisper becomes stuck in your teeth.
This forced confession
Of a false perversion.
You will receive no relief.
You will never whipe your face clean.
Sugar crusts upon your thin, quivering lips.
They'll never tell me.
Because they don't know.
As my fabricated story of trugged sidewalks,
Bleeding smiles,
And soft skin
Brush by one's vision
Are they to know?
Electricity vibrates veins,
Pushes one foot forward.
But the thoughts run the questionably mentioned insanity.
Utter the unimagined.
The untold.
The scar.
Until we meet again.
Veracity may overcome.
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