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"too much stuff, too many places, too much information, too many people, too much of things for there to be too much of, there is too much to know and i don't know where to begin but i want to try."

Monday, February 14, 2011

i am dead inside

my body is sore from yoga
my heart feels empty, the place where he last laid his head
doesn't seem like it exists anymore
he kissed my forehead, wanted me to stay another night
i couldn't fall asleep and then i slept too late
my therapist told me to start carrying my camera again
like a pack of cigarettes
replace death with eternity
it doesn't seem to be working, all my cameras grow dust
ash blows in the wind
the sun shines on my tired mind
i don't know what school is anymore
i only feel home in his earth-sculpted arms
different voices talk me to sleep
and i wake up always as lonely
books and words and oatmeal cookies
4am subway platforms
in treatment

1 comment:

Soogie said...

finding an outlet..
why is that so hard to do?