Friday, November 5, 2010

Lost films.

No more patients
Just empty glasses
Cold sterile whites
And faceless strangers
All against the wall
Seething as you walk by
No different than before
A common stride
Let's a breath go
A ghost in the cold
Tell tale sign
There's never letting go
Bit my lip
Till the last bled spit
Trying to go to bed
Never mention this again
Confusing as the letters
I wrote to myself
Dear, Self
How do I really feel?
P.S. you need help.

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