afterthought nausea left by the coffee now two days gone left by the sleep ignored for so long left by the mess of the unrighted wrong afterthought nausea.
will you be ready in two years' time, or will I still be waiting then? in 5 years, 10 years? will it end? this a game of your design. it's hopeless this imagined love
I’m breathless, Gasping, Suffocating, Winded. The air’s been struck out of me So I’m panting, Like the asthmatic that I’m not. I’m just thirsty for oxygen.
To be read fast Red room Hazy gloom Latino tune Near full moon Silver straps Rhythmic claps Quick-footed traps “A dance perhaps?” Too late to leave Don’t think –believe