They lay in the purgatory
of my high fevered thoughts.
Heavy, heavy stones.
Pull at the center of my being.
Tug down and aid gravity's dull and painful pull.
It longs that I lay my cheek
intimately upon it's hard surface.
Pull, Pull.
Do not lay down.
Hear the words splattered
upon such walls of my aching skull.
Such words sprayed
upon the walkway of my thoughts.
Cry in terror!
Only the deaf can hear the pain.
Run until the ends of time.
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