Sometimes Faith in Chaos is all I have left.
Scraps of a purpose, that beg for release.
Sporadic outbursts of bitter resolve curb constriction,
Ashes of Dreams on Bloodstained Streets.
Thoughts cloudy
Bullets of thought strewn over strings of fate.
Tight around my neck,
Ready 2 choke at this rate.
Battling warped realities,
Lost in the 3rd dimension.
Facin tension,
Struggling to reach ascension.
Friday, January 25, 2008
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