Calikatdavis

my heart is screaming may-day, "i need to get out of here, out of you." i am smudged out ink on a paper, water running down dirty car windows.  i am  a broken elevator, stuck  between places. (bury your heart where it won't find an escape route, let it pound, like a prisoner shaking the bars, and never let it out  "don't wear your pain too proudly",  they said, "hide  like the demon you truly are.") i am the missing page in a dusty novel from 1932, forgotten words of war.