RSSwaking
Aug 25
—up to depression’s grip on my throat again—dreaming of falling and endings and brick walls slamming into my car—she sits in a wheel chair and contemplates rolling into a gorge—this mess that my own impulses have created invades my sleep—outside a damp chill surrounds the house—a garbage truck carries the neighborhood filth away—I hope for an emotional refuse collector—come to my curb and pick up my weeping—take it away to the landfill of despair and bury it under fresh soil—
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- Another Try: DRUGS
