He Cups His Ear With His Handlisten for it he is guiding me back home i abhor it 'cause i do everything aloneHe Cups His Ear With His Hand
anylize it i spend hours writing prose of pain and promise that those i love will never know
i destroyed them every letter that you wrote i used to wear them in my pocket but i don't wear them anymore
i'm above it i am mine, and mine alone i don't want them i do not need anyone
i ignore it! i ignore it! won't believe it! cannot see it! i ignore it!
you were careful put your hand across me slow when they hit us
The Living Deadhe tries to put his tie on straight enough to hide the fact: he hasn't worn a tie in days, enough to make one think there's something going on with him stupid blunders, social slips "there must be something wrong with me . . . i must have grown up differently"The Living Dead
and she dries from a shower, not quite warm enough to realize the kind of feeling she's been dreaming of but for some months has been absent from never sad, but always numb she prays for sensation to come back to the limbs she's grown so tired of
he says "i don't feel like dressing up
--
why?
Why?
WHY?
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