bloody lips

September 10, 2010

the last word written, well, too hasty.

Arms almost feel as if they are detaching from my shoulders – not yours – but sounds tasty. shoes degrade like memories, sort of, under my feet. each step leads me closer to giving up. Why is there forget? thoughts like these, they’re tough.

A railroad is waiting for me somewhere, endless and open arms.

what form of movement to choose, that’s what stops me everyday. Restless legs go unsatisfied, I guess.

So the path I would’ve taken comes up in my dreams. i woke with bloody lips – perhaps way too often. maybe the other path led to some desire that would be my end.

i wake and smile, i can still move my legs. this is good enough, for me.


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