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Monday, August 9, 2010


I kick at the puddles lining the silver concrete,
warming my feet in the luke-warm liquid.
It's a city, and there's the fear of germs and illness,
but I trudge through the water boldly.

No, not boldly at all.
I'm scared, terrified, and soaked through.
Chills up and down my skin, everywhere.
I'm scared, scared, scared.

There's no time for that, see, 
because we have to get home.
But we're only going back to an empty house
with memories, right,
but nothing more.

Thoughts through the walls and cracked windows,
duct tape wrapped around the broken edges.
But it's not enough to dull it down,
and the memories scream, shout at me
from everywhere.

We are happiness,
hear us roar. 

I'm not buying it.
I wasn't ever happy.

Things were always twisted, see.
Even the day I met you,
I knew you were going to kill me.

Maybe not you, really.
But I died. 

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