A journal to me
p*ss a canvas of our
expression upon which
we flick our thoughts
with a snap of the wrist
to shape a splattered
portrait with the morbid
twist of sullen verse
sheet after sheet
I peer into the cogs
of another mind
I’ll respond in kind
by finishing their
peripheral thoughts
Because a thought
incomplete is a
bittersweet invitation
for two unmet souls
to come face to face
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