i counted the bones on my ribcage,
the fragile ladder,
soaked in skin
and willed it to prod
and push more.
sometimes all i need to feel alive is that beating heart,
and the fast metablism.
I need to feel that some part of me is trying,
when everything else is dead.
Author notes
26th august 08
whatever.
funny i wrote on the day i was meant to stop writing.
more to come.
Comments
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I need to feel that some part of me is trying,
when everything else is dead.
oh oh no way nothing can be this perfect surely
you have just captured in less than twenty words the weird and twisted paradox that pretty much rules my life
didn't think that was possible
i wish you would write more
i love your style, i love the way you make things seem so simple, on the surface, but if you scratch a little deeper there is so much there
amazing



