Sunday, August 10, 2008

Out with a bang

cigarette smoke in and out,
of this body I call my house,
the last one I will take outside,
the last won will smoke me out,

These feelings are controlled,
By whom I call them my own,
Dreaming almost schizophrenically,
Past present future align,

Remix of this short life lived,
games turn you into a logician,
searching for perfect harmony,
melody brings you down to ground,

Thoughts feeding back like cracks,
Silence has won me over,
A distant voice asks questions,
He is my friend

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