Monday, November 19, 2012


I feel as if this is it
This is rock bottom
Buried under an old blanket
Clutching a pillow as I would a log in a storm
I feel my mind rotting away
The value of self drowning in a vile mess
The room is empty
Bit of trash strewn about
The only things left serve to remind me of losses
I fall into the collection of memories
this room
and I let my mind replay a better time
If possible I do not wish to wake from this dream

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