Monica Richards
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The Trauma Coil

Monica Richards


Another night down on the Catherine wheel Drawn into a corner
A symphony of resounding shrieks in my head

I court a sure, sudden death But give no quarter
A paper soul tears the heart from the mind

Searing is the morning, a tenement of lights Lost inside the attic
On the floor again with a head full of rain

Wander with the shadows of shelter and smiles Bleeding in a stairwell
Fever-staggered steps and a mouth so dry

Three liquid words collapse Blind and chasing sirens
Five years of night time and a heart made of tin

Allow your sympathies the length of a table I recognize no brother
Lash out at their smiles and walk in through their eyes

As my knowledge, does the knowing Split my being from past days
In decision, in departing In the severance of old ways
With precision, in my silence I perceive the bitter still
Imposition, these young calling Withered kisses, or the kill?

Together we stand We stand so still

Indifference, hollow laughter Bathes the walls of this lost home
So futile, all attempts Affectations, long to roam Ever spinning, vile actress
Answered blindly to the call The price, child yet again we sit And watch our private rome fall

I am not well No, not well at all

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