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Cracking Cycles

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Eyes wide

She speaks of nothing

And with her left cheek eroded

The young one watches

From the cupboard draws

Ears plugged with wet fingers

Humming for a Disney world

The kitchen bench

Is cleaned from the mess

Famine and feast

To where he

In all his agony

Ambushed upon the prey

Hours beyond

A screech still whistles in the air

A whimsical end

Of her


Each morning

The child crawls closer

And her eyes began to disappear

An education is formed

From the punishment or the taken

And with circles they are forsaken

Nothing new here

It was the same

Years before

So they speak of nothing more

Hide the filth under the counter

Sweep away her sweet admissible pain

Find another to adore

And it waits

A monster lingering in the night

The agony to despise

And tenderly arise

The surface is breached

Her teachings have been well received

Wet fingers plugging ears

Not enough, never enough

The whistle of screeches

For ever looming the air

Securing the knot

In the depth of the stomach

A circle upon circle

Upon cycle

The kitchen was never cleaned

Forever scrubbing

At glories end

Lady Macbeth in her finest moment

Our mind won’t forgive or let go

And the white invisible bleaching scars

Grow old and become one

Human and animal flesh

As it speckled the bench

Fists high

And once again

Another is born

Watching becoming the norm

Another bone

Another cheek


And always a cycle is born

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