literature

idle hands are the devil's workshop

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crystallized-skies's avatar
Published:
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Literature Text

my mind is idling
low and steady and the voices
are getting
restless,
thrashing against my 
skull with the anticipation
of a child on christmas morning,
they howl with 
laughter and spit on 
the flames that 
dimly light the 
shadows under my eyes.

they’re coming 
they’re coming 
they’re coming 

one day
when my hands stop
drumming against my thigh 
impatiently 
and the static of 
my car radio dies, 
silence will come
knocking on 
my temple’s door
her hands icy cold
and her grin all but pleading--
it’s time to play. 




and today's sad poem is brought to you by the song Car Radio by Twenty One Pilots. (If you don't know the song or the band, go drool over them here: www.youtube.com/watch?v=92XVwY…

enjoy.

*rolls away into the shadows under your bed* 
© 2015 - 2024 crystallized-skies
Comments6
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DynamiteHearts's avatar
"cause someone stole 
my car radio
and now I just sit in silence."

jesus christ my soul sings that song
I feel it in my bones
and this poem is a perfect companion to it UGH