I need a chamber. A place to dump all that I generate while grinding this lifespan. I open the shell to only stuff it and shut it again. The erstwhile empire is nowhere to be seen. You may wonder. Or, your inflated ego is struggling to show off. Whatever it is, I just need my chamber for myself. I inhale for a reason written on my forehead. What I exhale is not of my concern as I write this off here.
The age of terming any and every action is gone past. The age of resilience and resurgence is what victims seek. The age of recovery and return is a dream. A realm I deal with ease. But, some dreams are indeed a dream that even dreamers dream of. Vacant spaces have started echoing louder. A theatrical effect spinning fantasies to fury. The resulting sculpture is so full of ruptures. The roots deepen depending on the echoes emanating all over.
I struggle to wriggle something off my entirety. Pain, they call it. Gain, would follow they said. In vain, I swallow. While every mouth full of words make my mouthful shallow, a divine... I am unable to complete that sentence. Rain!
A firm press at the glands can stop it physically. But, the real pain is in killing the storm elsewhere. In silence, I enjoy seeing your world relieved of my presence. But, I need my chamber. I need to get rid of verses that choke me instantly and constantly.
While every mouth full of words make my mouthful shallow, a divine ___________ keeps me fed enough. What if my mouth full of words makes their days shallow? Hence, I swallow everything and pretend hollow. Phew! Tried and completed it. -rPhoenix
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