Who Am I?

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Ink-stained fingers and a whirlwind of unused, unsaid words... clatter to the floor like pots and pans when i see you in a silent pinprick... that pounds in my ears' heartbeat and nerve-shuddering chalk-board fingernails... that i have to clip before every kickboxing match that nobody ever came to... my senses and decided to make myself happy... laughter bounces off the family room... to breathe alone and self-conciously beneath music on the bus... traveling at a snail crawl alond my windowsill yellow and bright... mind that i refuse to watch you wasted... time worrying what it is that i'm smelling on what you're wearing... down and slip into senseless oblivion...





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