words whispered, slipped out
and strangled, kicked out and mangled,
forgotten, tangled
in with all the rest
and all the best of propositions,
missed positions,
soldered knots and
whiskered kittens,
rising bread and
setting suns...
can anybody listen now,
to worlds unspoken?
silence, broken?
a drop, a pearl,
and ashes, smoking?
speak with your hands?
speak unto lands?
share thoughts and songs
and smiles, and pants?
I guess it's hard
to sit together,
when every cloud is
dangerous weather,
when every man
stares at your back,
and every one
might just attack
and sear your gold
and steal your time
where words
and worlds
are sewn with pride
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