untitled (2)
By Amy
We sit talking. Careful not to poke to far beneath the surface of things. Woven to tightly within this cocoon of complications. I watch you staring. Concerned with the leak in the ceiling. It hovers above our heads quietly caculating the right moment to explode and cover us in all the stuff that's under the layers of paint and plaster. I feel older then this Numbness finally starting to show its wrinkled brow Everything keeps falling out of time and im not sure how to put it back in order again. It comes and goes Im not sure where But it comes and goes. The only thing that stays consistnt is that steady leak in the ceiling mildew and molding a crack between you and I. Written November 8th, 2001 © on Nov 08 2001 08:56 AM PST 0 • 1
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"We sit talking...."