PoeticaL
cluttering the net since 2001

dysfunctional memory

Thursday, Aug. 22, 2002
A lot of introspective stuff comes out after 2 a.m. My words then are like orphaned children looking for a safe pair of arms. In the glare of the morning light the only realization I ever have is that I am still cold, I still miss that warmth that my baby life never provided.

I'm still just tired. Still sleeping alone in my own home.
7:56 a.m. ::
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