The confines of that callous heart drip with bile.
I clutch the past to my heart like an old friend.
The bedtime hours come complete with motion.
A tossing, turning, tumble of sheets slung hot swiflt thrown aside.
the vacuum of her soul leaves a stain on the memory.
It is as if all truths were lies and all lies a curtain.
4 comments:
4am....empty bag...no more
left.
A terrible time in my life.
P.
To kind of combine the sentiments of both Ruela and Pete, you've taken a real(real?!)* horror and wrung something quite beautiful out of it. Bravo!
*Not that I question the reality of such experience, it's just that it reminds me of something similar during which I was...ah...moved to doubt reality itself...
thanks guys
I don't use drugs but I think this is beautiful but beautiful for me it's not the beautiful...
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