Heavy

It’s quiet. The sound of a faint clock ticking.

Dim dismal lights flow through my shut eye lids like a noise.

The clamor of the voices in my head won’t stop telling me to run, but I stay.

I stay to listen as the winds pull me to and fro. As if I should not, and could not

Watch myself. Pulling out of my body and seeing her lay still. I am addicted to it,

The long drag of a cigarette and a slow dance of his silhouette walking toward me.

It ain’t easy, but I still come willingly. The look in his eyes barely see me.

This piece of time is minuscule but it leaves me so so alone,

My empty frigid bed where I find that there is no one home.

For days and weeks it lays there, promising nothing. All’s I want to do

Is get away. Come and find me for you know know know, dear friend, where I stay.

Hercules_statue_by_William_Brodie_(Portmeirion,_Wales)

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