Monday, March 05, 2007

The Empty You (this is your own Hell)

As I stare at my wall counting the minutes, I am reminded of the loss I have to feel over and over again...the blank expressions and days of endless silence. The nail in our coffin...the last day of nothing. The defense of everyone else in the world. The fridgid cold ice water coursing in those veins...your hatred can warm you at night. Your razor sharp spite can be the black wings with which you fly away to into the dream world you think we live in.



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