11.15.2007

///fifteen minutes of my night///





















what is a twenty-four hour day. non-existent. i can sleep forever, wake forever. i choose and not my body.

why is it always these extremes. extreme extremes. life devoid of gray.

i can read a book of my own, but never one of theirs. i can write a short story for myself, but never for that place. i will write you more than i talk to you. i can stay in this room forever, but i'll never stay in yours.

i've run out of dissociatives, but i'm still dissociated.

though, content. in some unfeeling way..



it is always nighttime here in this place.

No comments:

Post a Comment