Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Seventy-Six Days Plus

God, these hunger pangs
No socks
No shirt
Solitary light seeping from the refrigerator
Boylan Bottleworks Black Cherry
Inaudible breathing in the upper levels of the edifice
I hate writing like this

A lone tear fell when my eyes fell upon this house
I said to myself
These people do not know me
As much as they believe they do
And I lack the adroitness to tell them as such
And no longer do I find comfort in my old allies
We share no common ground
"Yo, you hear that new Gucci?"
"No, but lately my migraines have grown past the level of incapacitating"
"So...you wanna hear that Gucci or what?"
I guess one could say I've been dreaming of freedom again.

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