Silence the holds the deepest sins, forever in collection of the counteractive vision,

I find the unfailing comfort in poisonous things,

Maestro stop this orchestrated ensemble of discord,

So many lost vibrations that tone the lines, I can’t feel the sounding on the walls of skull,

Reflections picture my vision of scare, which isn’t terror but the absence of,

To more than survive show me how to live enough,

Is the line long enough, does my patience wait to find I’m next to leave my hunger in the game that no one longer is worth the rough.

Letters Left on Un-Read

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