Leak into the paper, the constant whispers stop, lost if left for later.
To bleed between lines, even without the literal sense, the paper they will bind.
Trail the past and dot the future, not yet lucid, dismembered by abusers.
Mentality like the putty, you put it in your hand, and pressed as if paltry.
H”Any place or state of torment or misery.” I’ve never been one to believe in angels, burning bushes or stone rocks carved by lightning with the rules of god, but I don’t need a bible to believe in hell. Everyday I walk out of the security of my home I see hell on the streets. Miserable, tormented people, by the dozen, sitting on the roadside for the closest pickup truck that can offer work. Dozens of neighbors, I refuse to display my smoking addiction on a daily occasion ask, but I do not tell with only 20 cigarettes in a pack. I do not make note because of pity or shame, only out of fear. There are so many bad decisions and choices that result in poverty, drug abuse and loss of common decency. I see hell in the lifestyle of my community everyday and I fear the same fate. As it stands right now, this halfrican is hell-bound.