Tuesday, June 03, 2008

Don't scream this time
I'll promise you something
To fall asleep to.
We're sleeping on air.
We're breathing in cold ash.
We're falling through time.
You're the pain in my stomach,
The need in my bones.
This is too comfortable
For our cause.
Regret washes us over,
Drags our bones across the sea.
Drying out on land,
We are plucked thin
And skeletons starved.
Something is missing - lost -
In the question.
It falls away.


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