December 13, 2012

  • every breath is a cliche

    a burning shooting pain in my urethra

    i stare into space

    i am the empty pool with that last bit of dirty water

    the leaves upturned

    withered

    moss over grown

    Eyes vacant

    i feel the car veer off into another lane

    the heart beating on the floor

    Flipping around like a fish in a barrel

    where am I?

    what have I done?

    when will tomorrow

    be gone?