2012-05-12
wish i was more than i am
I age quietly behind the still feathers of my own voice. The poems and stories in my head are mostly bone fragments scattered in a vacant lot. But sometimes they are "the unburied dead returning to life and seeking human victims." That's when I grab a heavy shovel and crack them upside the head and dig a deeper and more despairing grave. I just want peace and an empty head as I orbit through the last years of my life.
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