January 4, 2008
i don't know what you want from me,
all I know is that this air is full of
cold tension,
it's stinging me,
pinpricks stabbing at my skin

this is how bad it can get.

i used to sit curled
up in fake leather chairs,
inhaling jelly beans
and refusing to talk.

there is no reason for my being here.

then Jack became a friend,
a good friend,
but for a change, I went to seeing red,
a red like lava that rose
and oozed
and softly slid.

thin tape hid my shame.

my therapy turned to curling
in a blanket,
a warm coffee cup in hand.
sip and breathe,
a new philosophy.

think of something good and warm.

marlow did not give in,
but I cannot say the same for myself
the darkness is rather alluring

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