Darkness fell like sundown. Behind closed doors they weep. Wails do not echo. Like knives to my feet, tracing a nail through my soul. Shadows peak, hearts deplete. Tones. Piercing tongues like daggers to their eyes. Watering. Bloodshot was their minds. Temple pulsing to the rising dance of truth. Hate. A picture of you. She holds her hands. He holds his breath. I look beyond the floor. If looks could kill, this room would kill us all. This is the sound behind closed doors.
January 13, 2010, 11:52am *
