WORD SALAD

The pen is heavy and loaded, The ink is dry,the nib corroded. The thoughts and words have evaporated Leaving behind memories,concentrated. There they lay caged,waiting for an outbreak, To attack,to charge, to cause a mental quake. They lurk, waiting for the fault lines to show, Waiting to ambush,strengthening for a stronger blow. Widening,deepening,engraving,strengthening the fault, Together they charge,leaving you reeling from the assault. They've burnt you, leaving the char, Ripping through you, splicing every old scar.                                                                              (unfinished)