Sunday, July 21, 2013


Call it turbulence
Call it misunderstood
Call it whatever word could define the clutching of ones temples with frantic, trembling fingers
A bleeding gaping wound that seem to breath, expand and germinate
Call it sczhoprenia
Call it a narcissistic reflection
A careful tweaking, shading, blending to create a temporary perfection
Call it a mask, a pastiche 
Call it pretentiousness
Call it sin
Call it life

It exists, it hurts
It hunts, it breeds

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