Life As Hot Ice

Life As Hot Ice


Life As Hot Ice
What are words without the soul of torment
which cause description…
perfectly spoken in passive foulness out of vapidity.
Not all pain is evident but it is always residual.
Smeared across life like some shitty shoe…
know no newness in this stale mindset;
I, however, resurrect redundancy.
Proof negative,
if breath tunneling an exodus
be the only means of letting go…
Validity as concurrence to emote is a burning fraud.
Why hoodwink as the scolding touch of hot ice?
I can only accept responsibility for the lies told to myself…
the ones I radiate outward for perception,
are the fallacies that lie on you.

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