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twenty-ninth, mar things have changed - yes - i have so little time within myself anymore. i took it for granted when i was vacationing there. isn't that an age-old story. i miss answering to nothing but the hum of my own ears and the subsequent echoes sounding off a little softer and a little softer into the great, quiet infinity. i don't know who you really are and i don't know if i really like who i think you are. i'd like to think of myself as someone with the decency to let you down easy, but where is there to hide when the first unforgivable claws of the morning sun are all pointing in my direction? ripping hungrily at the last shreds of night, what's left to conceal even the smallest of my flaws? it's easy to see the truth, now. it's when it comes to drawing the drapes where my hand hesitates. but i decide to accept it all like the blueberry stains on my t-shirt: there is nothing to be done. say it out loud. this is how it is. my limbs are so shaky what-the-fuck i'm a freshly born fawn learning the first steps it takes to become a walker. spilling things left and right. all this sleep is making my head sick; i can't find the right equation: tired from lacking or tired from indulging; adding, subtracting. give me the answer, i wanna yell, take the key to the lock and wake me from this strange dream. i can't do it by myself. but who else is there? is the response i gather from the thundering silence of a hung-up phone. |