Monday, July 26, 1993

look to the window

don’t the shadows seem to fall more harshly

from the sky as he walks away

the walk telling you nothing is right

for moments you are deaf and dead dead

I am dead you think

remember the dream

where you thought you’d get attention

by lying down on the floor

but everyone stepped and you felt your

skin crush and no one said stop

that is how it will be now you think

when you think again

all is given up

and exits are the only pretty view

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