As we try and inhale love, a little bit of hate gets stuck in our throats
We try and cough but our lungs fall out and suddenly we have no voice
What is this prison in which we stand with walls as tall as they are long
And where is the sun? why can’t it creep in?
What prison is this that’s free of speech
And what soul sucking zombie has throttled our words before they escape our lips
A sensitive, sensitized, censored sound-scape where thoughts are sucked soon after
Blossoming. Shattered. Smashed. Glass vases scattered in pieces about our feet.