Wake up, roll over, get out. This was meaningless...again. Feet hit the cool floor, one look back at the sleeping mound left behind, then quick! scoot! out the door.
He merely existed. A three-dimensional substance, draped in blankets, one foot hanging off the end of the bed, dragging through the murky water of whatever we were supposed to be.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
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1 comment:
that last sentence is killah.
geeze.
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