Rankled

I fed the nightmare until they grew,
until they were enough to swallow me whole.
I lived in isolated indigestion inside its stomach,
’twas by far the most lonesome.

Silence calls upon memories,
some truer than they seemed,
and most falsified by fading of time.
Blast blame after blame from the gun,
feed the silence, dig the grave deeper.

The choice looms and alas it’s another wrong.
Drop the pans, chase away the quiet
Thunder come hither, but lightning not.
Run for the hills, run for miles.
Run until something works out.

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August 2014
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