THIS galaxy splintered into domestic <br />artifacts, theres a absence here, and <br />a ominous argument that ends with a <br />hand shake, yes both sides agree to <br />disagree, <br />but the repetition digs and digs, <br />untill it hits the right spot, <br />THIS galaxy cloaked into a haunted <br />silence, i smell the gunfire, and dead <br />peaple, and bombs that kill everything <br />but cockroaches, some times i sit <br />and cry, , then ask god, was this part <br />of your plan, or should i turn off this <br />tv, but the repetition digs and digs, <br />untill it hits the right spot, , ,<br /><br />DAVID GERARDINO<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/domestic-artifacts/
