(no subject)

[earth_souljah]

the old man broken hands of building on us
sealed shut swollen holding head in silence
corrected, i am
young man idle and avoiding faster
pace make stalling years of vacant laughter
effectively declining urgency and moments
balance to me, watching the others to be
falling together begins falling apart
careless to keep, it tears the extremity
cries the thrower as he throws his arm
all these years, what is there to be?
what's worth the open arms, what is it to me?