1700
Some lives are made up with letters that spell pain
He isn't capable of loving us whole
Seven words to prick the surface of the skin
How could a small unexpected scratch create such hurt
Quantum droplets of blood pool over every other centimeter, some times every second other
Twenty six letters plump with plasma and melanin dabbed by one sheet of tissue
Blood rained down on me swirled with tears like black gross grain
My belly is filled with this elixir. Please lord cut me !!! poke me !! I must bleed out these letters
They are strangling me. I fear I may drown in my own script
Rich green chlorophyll ***ed blood is being sacrificed
It's being wasted, the breast is full and contributing but there is no mouth of want and desire to suckle
Love goes unloved here
Tears roll down mountains that use to be bones under cheeks with smiles that showed teeth
Tunnels dark and damp once echoed OM's of laughter in 3 and 5 letters cresting fun and peace
Vessels of sounds now empty
Glasses rimmed in warm champagne use to hear the letters forming and creating notes
These songs were translucent and if you would OM your breath they would cascade around the colors
of each letter that spelled you.
The number of letters were assigned, but how you spelled and wrote was up to you and no one other
person in the galaxy
The number of letters with specific colors connected you to different sections in the galaxy
They were road maps and your merkaba was like a gps but it was inside of your soul
It was so hard to get scratched back then
It must have gotten foggy or maybe a fire burned some of it away but many of us have forgotten to
spell 4 maybe too much 3 and 5
We grew short and was made to learn time measured
And now we are limited
Living an infinite collection of letters in pretty on the outside words creating scratches in script
