Wednesday, October 7, 2009

"It..." she waited for a bit while the wind, and perhaps more things, made her vision blurry.
"it is the winter. coming here."

"I won't miss it."

Even as I sit in a green-carpeted sink hole, I feel that everyone is watching me.
It makes me want to go.
It's the strangest tree, I've ever seen in a library.
Too much awaits me. Too much presumed compliance,

so i cross bridges you hate

over brown clear creeks with sparkling green stones.
i am sorry if i am.
i am sorry if i am.

a culmination of you walked toward the other side.
a cliff was seen by your eyes.

the dream was nothing but a real face
who made fear send something through the doorway

like an old bullet in my chest
i looked down . i can'tremember what happened after that; when i woke,there were waves black and blue and empty gray...i was struggling, lying on my back.

i almost spoke out loud, "i'm not afraid to die,"
either that or, "please, i'm not ready."

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