Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Movements In Quick Sand

Move.
Move you say.
It's the only way to get anywhere.

To get away from you.
To get away from me.
To get away from this.
To get away from us.

You push.
Until I'm in a corner.
You stab.
Until I'm crippled in that corner.
I swear I'd take a bullet for you.
But I'd take a bullet over your words any day.
You scream.
Until my voice has decided to quit.
You fight.
Until the fight in me is gone.

Immobilized. Broken. Out of breath.
You say I need to move.

Once strength is regained.
I cautiously scan.
Take a step into the sun.
Only to be drawn into your shade.

Consistency always suited you best.
And what's consistency without the one who's never left?
But who is that fair to?
Time lapses, and look at it backwards.

Please tell me where you want me to go.
Because you won't let me do it on my own.
You're virtually unpleasable.
You're virally indestructable.

I accept that.
Do you?

The difference between a man and a boy is a man takes responsibility for his actions.
Where did the man go you so often claim to be?

You're unsatisfied when I yearn for you.
You're unsatisfied when I yearn to stray from you.
So please.
Fucking place me.

My body is just a timebomb now.
Waiting to fucking explode.

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