Friday, February 15, 2013

2 15 2013

It’s getting easier for me to tell people I don’t love them.

I imagine flying through space to be something like driving through a snowstorm at 2:14 am.

I imagine 2:14 am to be something like heaven.

If I concentrate on the wall hard enough, I can almost remember a time when me and Zac were friends. 

If the wall concentrates on me hard enough, it can almost become the floor.

Like, this is some sort of dream.
Only I’m not committing suicide this time.
Very pristine, this night is.
Eventually it will end, but that shouldn’t foretell the future now, should it?

You know what this is about.
Only garbage that my mind is coughing up.
Underneath it all, it’s quite different now.

Is that too obvious?

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