Tuesday, January 26, 2010


stale smells,
lingering so long
they pale into green-grey insignificance
the world spins on its head
whirls madly
laughing at you
your fingers slip desperately,
refusing to do anything you tell them to
with monsters crawling out of the covers
and seeping into your brain
until time seems more confused than you are.
stale, lingering disgust.
it was always there
not bothering to hide
for you to notice it
it curls the edges of everything
taints all it touches
making it impossible for anything to be beautiful too long.

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