Wednesday, September 17, 2008

Just Tell Them I'm Busy

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it's hurricane season in my head. my tongue is tied but my smile comes easy through the smoke of dozens of cigarettes. we are all victims of our own afflictions, only some don't cry when it starts to rain. instead, shadows dance and silence ensures

until i'm left

with memories of things i will recall for years. i feel timeless and contagious through my sleeplessness while you trust my weaknesses and allow our secrets to go untold.

i've slipped, and all i can think to ask is







catch me?

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