Monday, October 26, 2009

i had a dream i was a werewolf

begging for change, but I have plenty of shrapnel

plenty of money, plenty of sunny friends with open arms, open hands and closed ears

does she even really care about me? it's hard to tell. i think so. i hope so.

mainly because i don't allow any of my real feelings to show on the surface - happy mask, smiles for the camera - and all the teeth and matches in the keyboard

but, every now and then, around her - the mask slips and I feel a cold fingernail push into my heart

freezing the breath in my chest

and brittle bones creak under the pressure as I struggle, vainly, to draw air into these tired lungs

and even then i get nothing other then a mouthful of ash

it's so quiet I can hear my cigarette burning as I bring it to my mouth

crisp, still heat that sears my lips as i drag away to the butt

eager for that finality, that satisfying stab as i crush it to a hard coal in the ashtray

if only everything else was so easy

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