Wednesday, June 9, 2010

For Eyes


Don't depend on me.
There is no chance for you.
I am underneath the ocean now...and we all know that is an abyss of sorrows.

Panic.
Fear, torqued inside.

What air awaits above the water? Will it cleanse or peel?


Why did I come up to breathe in air? I only have to relearn to live without it.


This cancer grows and grows, and I am without a bucket to hold all the empty peels.
My fingers are sloppy with their residue.

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