cleave

conversations dwindle
lines of communication grow slack
only words that do the needful
all others are kept back (by choice)

we fill our heads with noise
our eyes with bright colors
to stave off the cleaving
that's stressing the cracks (that no one mentions)

maybe we were born with these imperfections
perhaps we picked them along the way
now the glue that held the pieces together
is drying and flaking off at the seams (whispered screams)

every night we suffer the dreams
of what could have been or how it should be
the world is not a hell hole yet
but it's on its way

----
The c-train continues. Are you having fun yet?