on dusty floors where our splintered crutches sprawl
static fills the air breaking sound like sweet lullabies
hymnals of insomnia and dazed withdrawl
heavy darkness squeezes
shoulders slump and life pumps out of blackened lungs
fire coats the inside hall and orange demons rise
flecks of pure white snow so slow they could be hung
blue opens up in worn eyes
staring out avoiding contact
straightening creases in a skirt
ruffling a paper switching songs
trying not to hate myself too much
working till the blisters rise and are gone
straightening my life up until dawn
making calls pretending to care
full of ambition
and lord does it wear
scattered bits of this and that
spider-webbed and off track
curtain drops
fade to black

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