More Concerned With The Temporary Pleasures Of This World

Its been a week...of silence...Its pulling me under...drowning in quicksand.

The bruises you left on my chest have faded. 

But the scars are still there.

The pressure around my throat is missed.

My face is sullen.

Showing the neglect.

Chanting into the wind.

Singing about vivid transparencies.

I miss the abuse. If abuse it what you can call wanted pain.

Dance the night away because tomorrow we will look back and talk about good times now gone forever.

Chasing endless pipe dreams,
-J.C