perhaps i do not exist at all.
i am nothing, just a prescence
watching from a distance
imagining the way it feels like to be real
this sleeping, this dreaming and waking
is a cycle of death and rebirth
every night, my soul escapes from me and exists until the morning comes
when i die again and
the sunlight sounds, and my lungs fill with air
pores screaming like a newborn
wanting to shut out the light and crawl back into
that place where nothing matters

01/05/2004

Posted on 01/06/2004
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