Don't Hold Your Breath

in somber decadence this picture captured a thousand words the sweetest ambiance turned sour by the deadest stare i still remember the stale, thick oxygen that played our mediators role breathe out every whisper caressing notions of vindictive nostalgia every word lingering as if an eternal echo in mid-air floating atop its frigid vehicle cradled by open ears and a open mind thissnowballing act, now barbarism is in no form pestilence well, i'll bring it all back down to earth because it's not as easy for me to forget a name or a face or a human being for that matter no more stitches will be sewn.....not for you not anymore over this at least guts are spilled and stitches ripped hold your breath and rip a stitch