Thursday, July 07, 2011

Off in the distance the phantoms grow

My hands move back and forth like phantoms. and the light of the city is colored in a distinct pattern of visibility. the people move in shadows, and the buildings are fuzzed, blurred and out of focus. My feet stumble as the sidewalk moves in and out of consciousness. As the clutter builds and the stomach turns. Everywhere i go i cant help but fall asleep. the time goes bye in a minut sense of sensibility. and my head hurts, and my arms sag. i can now see my house standing up off in the near distance. and the road goes off to seemingly nowhere, but i cant wait, but to fall asleep. and the hills are heavy, with the mourning breeze.

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