Same Old
i hum and rustle in my brittle sheets while hallucinations fester i would love to shriek or rev my sensory engine as i stumble through monotony i heed the melodious sound of my insides growing accustomed to this tablecloth infested dwelling i hiss and swish at the designs on the bone- or was it alabaster?- tinted walls and overlook the warning signs of depression i eavesdrop on the muffled clatter of inhabitants that choose to remain nameless, faceless, lifeless, careless, while i rustle and hum in my brittle sheets again. Written August 1st, 2000 © on May 03 2001 11:14 AM PST 0 • 1
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"i hum and rustle in my brittle sheets..."