By Marshall Hann
Submitted by Blessed23
Date: 2010 Jun 19
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A sea of thoughts
masquerade as words,
beautifully chaotic
startlingly imperfect,
as asinine as the man
who speaks them
(How fragile I am,
but welcome you are
here in my
exhausted arms,
though hands are calloused
and trembling
from the heartless warmth
of this Spring day)

I cut my lips
on my thoughts
feel them slide away,
and is there anybody out there
that feels
this inexorable confusion
aching to swallow the earth
and each apologetic individual
scraping meaning
off the city streets

Is there someone
who refuses
to be constrained
by nationalism
and sick self-interest
(leave the dim light
of devolution
in the gutter
and come inside
to the clutter
of my mind,
every breath will be taken
with caution,
and you can be my lantern tonight)