(no subject)

Nov 13, 2005 21:43

This is a day for anti-celebration, where the tissues make a pillow for the scattered electronics on the computer table
And the caplets of liquid strength give false advertisements of health and youth.
What I cannot get is how we are able to bathe in our vulnerability,
Like a sickly child shot out of the womb: defenseless, powerless, and painful.
When our lungs give in to the black hacking where
The soul is a tree and the "sick" is an axe, bearing away at the muscles... and vessels... and veins...
What are we expected to do?

I chose life! I chose liberty! I chose Theraflu and herbal supplementations.

And despite the drowsy appearance and the ratted hair...
The contagious wind and the slick silly smile,
Conclusions of past times cut between the doses.
We like our ex's like we like them drugs.
Deceptive, false, and full of mind-altering substances.

Cause of death: rupture of the heart. allergic to Pen t up feelings and dreams icilin.
There is no hope for her.
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