Tripping on my own shadow
sleeping as little as possible
feeding on stale crackers
and using pillows as masks
I go
living my days in pairs
while the shower is a river of handkerchiefs
I wake up to the evening news
the moon is my sun
and the whistling coffee pot my songbird
Her face is everywhere
my heart becomes an empty plastic bag
a merky fishtank
a cat ran over
by the garbage truck
I watch her slipping away
like a sad kid in the park
seeing his balloon fly into the air
1 comment:
Insomnia has become my best friend...I can't tell the difference between night and day anymore.
My bed has become an endless ocean of tears while I float in the middle of it playing these thoughts over and over again like a broken record.
Words have become weapons like daggers in a cutting board.
Actions have spoken for theirself...no need for words.
Me...I am back into the dark abyss I have known all too well looking for that lighthouse to show me the way.
You...where are you?
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