1
There are so many things here, so many memories.
I was passing by a shoe closet and had to gag myself not to scream or cry. I have to say a prayer every time I pee.
Sometimes at night I hear those noises that everybody’s talking about. I listen carefully until they waste away into my lonely sleep.
When I turn my head I hear other people thinking, and my hands are always cold. For now I sit in a trembling room, with hollow air. I wear a vacant stare while I try to phrase myself, it’s the most honest thing I wrote in months.
When I rush to the hospital, when I chase a taxi down, I try to fill my head with little haikus and slogans that lull the thoughts away. If you’d get a way of asking me, I guess I can’t remember what reading for pleasure feels like. mostly I just paint in the dark. I draw a tiny circle and then I fatefully add legs and arm to it. A stick for a body and some shards for hair. I can’t bother with a smiley face, I don’t see it anyway.
from time to time the clock starts ticking, and then it stops. I leave it hanging even though it creeps me out everytime midnight falls off the dial.
2
I see someone breathing as I run my finger on an old desk that reminds me things. How long since I’ve done that? I halt my air to see that just now, but I’m not convinced. I was sure there is more to it. There’s an “oh well” lingering on my mind for half a year now, I’m ready for come what may. Nothing rhymes quite as well as it used to. A good movie is just a good movie now.
3
It’s a young age to loose things such as these, I know. I’m familiar with where all my doors lead, I have practiced for each occasion. I’d like to say that I’ve done my part.
בבלוג זה
בכל הבלוגים
