September 20, 2013
Hairs, bristle.
They stand
On thin
Stratums of
Ecru flesh.

I look
Outside the
Door, waiting
For raindrops
To kiss.

The gravel
Is cinereous
And I
Can feel
Goodbyes coming.

The night
Is black,
As if
I don't
Know that.

I am
Waiting for
Someone, something.
Which won't
Ever come.

Doorknobs aren't
Turning. They
Are dead.
They will
Never wake.

I still
Have the
Couch. Oops!
The winds
Took it.

I still
Have skin.
Do I?
Yes, I
Certainly do.

I have
A pen.
But I
Need paper.
No luck!

There's a
Watch on
The cellar
Where there's
No wine.

The birds
Still have
Wings. No,
They have
Hairfall issues.

The bride's
Still wearing
White. No,
It's black.
Stygian black.

Footsteps go
In circles.
Circles go
In circles.
Never ending.

Blue is
Green and
Green is
Blue. I'm
Colour blind.

The windows
Are smithereens
On the
Mosaic something.
I'm unsure.

Cinnamon buns
Are with
Fish bones.
My hands
Are clean.

I was
Hoping the
Sun to
Be bright.
It's night.

Clouds float
In the
Sky. I
Want them
To land.

I cut
My head
With scissors.
Nothing happened,
Nothing. Nothing.

I tried
To scream.
But I
Have lost
My voice.

My vocals
Are sleeping
On grime.
I hope
I won't.

What's next?
Even the
Dust flies
Away from
My hands.

My heart
Is seeping
Through the
Rocks. I
Can't sleep.

Maybe tomorrow
I'll be
Making love
With a
Hirsute dog.

I'm screwed.
That sucks.
I want
To swear.
Tell me.

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