A sililoquy of suffering,

a symphony of sorrow.

a sickening symposium of sorts.

still such things arent 

stuffed or stopped,

a spineless throw together pot.

a sickening stop to 

this left right seesaw

no, still i see someone

standing still, slipping slivers 

of shushed 

wisdom through

small spaces.

such endeavors 

are no longer pursued 

for fear of it being misused, 

but its all in the way you abuse,

right?

come into light,

ill slip you a slight that

you can speak on the streets.

sliding softly through the night

simply dancing down the roads

I have seen people like you

in sarcastic spasming interviews

and you know why they never get the job

cuz they talk and talk and talk too long.

now quiet your mouth and listen here 

there are many ears

upon this room

watching waiting for my doom.

and  should you come along with me

theyll be watching as you sleep

so, should you want to seal your fate

take some strides

lets not be late.