Every inane, ignorant, stupid, barbaric, primitive conversation you're hearing at the check out line you're counting on your fingers to see if it adds up to 10 and figuring you can always make you're you are when it adds up to 9.

I wear your sin
Upon my skin
Laced around the words
That I breathe in.

Thanks for the inspiration,
And all your broken things.
These moments of silence
Are barely holding me
               Together.

So, don't be the one
That shatters my sanity
With the echoing sounds
Of distant cries
Originated from things like
            Lust and love.