martes, 22 de enero de 2008

Anxiety

Involuntarily, my brain working, processing nasty events, my eyes kept in motion behind closed eyelids. Turning over and over between hot sheets, the ceiling doesn't change although I try hard to look for signs.
Something alive, dark and harming inside me digs a hole, insists.
Trying hard to leave this consciousness, abandon this room, these thoughts.
Something dark and harming in my chest makes me walk up and down an empty downtown street.
The world is sleeping.
Hungry thing; you will not eat of me anymore.

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