or else out of too much learning become mad

and everything seems to have gone terribly wrong that can
but one breath at a time is an acceptable plan, she tells herself
and the air is still there - this morning it’s even breathable
and for a second the relief is unbelievable
and she’s a heavy sack of flour sifted, her burden lifted
and she’s full of clean wind for one lean moment
then she’s trapped again
reverted, caged and contorted with no way to get free
and she’s getting plenty of little kisses but nobody’s slipping her the key

and her whole life is a long list of what-ifs
and she doesn’t even know where to begin
and the pageantry of suffering therein rivals television
- tv is, after all, the modern-day roman coliseum:
human devastation as mass entertainment
and now millions sit jeering, collectively cheering
the bloodthirsty hierarchy of the patriarchal arrangement
and she is hailing a cab, she is sailing down the avenue
she’s nineteen going on thirty
or maybe she’s really thirty now - it’s hard to say
it’s hard to keep up with time once it’s on its way

and you know she never had much of a chance
born into a family built like an avalanche
and somewhere in the eighties
between the oat bran and the ozone
she started to figure out things like why
one eye pointed upwards, looking for the hole in the sky
one eye on the little flashing red light
a picasso face, twisted and listing down the canvas
at the end of an endless night

she got ice she don’t want anyone to break

(Source: thomashanley)

i didn’t see the time and i waited half my life away

(Source: 1120-sarah)