Tuesday, June 22, 2010


i've relapsed three years
when i would stay up until 3 a.m.
writing poems by the light of a gas-station lamp
turning out angst like it was my breath

i've regressed to a summer ago
when i couldn't eat, couldn't sleep
i was struggling with the idea of
two loves at the same time

this damned country rakes me in
it swallows my reason hope sanity
this city with its murky lights and its hard-tipped voices
engulf my lack of tongue age friends

now i'm here at 1 a.m. writing by no light
(it's obvious by day when i reread the skewed letters)
my eyes stitched to the computer screen, waiting to say good morning to you
and reconstruct a broken conversation from the day before

on the bright side, i haven't started having violent sex dreams
but it's been a weeks since i've smiled
it's only the second night in six weeks
and this place has worn me down.

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