Friday, October 31, 2008

pain poem, sad poem

what happened here? 

are these imaginary wishes?
do they come from vapor, an absent air?
there is no consolidation
and there is never an Okay
all there is,
is too much moving, and too much of everything.
the world got big and crowded,
and I want off
but there's nowhere to go. just the same old dismal land
and landscapes,
and everything that happened for thousands of years.
get me off,
i want to fucking leave
for real.
welcome to the most filled Alone place you'll ever find.

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