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Typical Sunday Chaos

Typical sunday chaos:

a spark of anger, barking anger.

Stark scarcity of love.

The beige clock on the

back wall ticks:




The predator shall hunt again,

wild with hunger—

a lust for blood and flesh.

A maddening pursuit for

the endless ego

of the heart.


A disgusting gaze,

a strong, firm grip,

a sweaped up mind.

Justification for the action,

and disgrace for the reaction.

A song of screams, the symphony of

muffled sobs, the tune of a powerless

whimper and a shameless laughter.

Echoes: stop, stop, stop.

A deafening, engulfing, unbearable silence.

A final strike,

depicting the end of the game.

Black out.

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