Wednesday, October 1, 2008

Voices


My heart beats like a drum
scratching off the skin of what I've become
my eyes see in the stillness of the night
my history and my future are in a fight
my mouth is dry like sand
I could swallow a whole man
a hallucination from the starvation
dreaming of the face behind my own fate
I have conversations alone in my bed
in bondage to the junk inside my head
fell asleep with the television on again
I have become my own best friend

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