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Cabin
There's a drizzeling outside
and a crackling fire.
We've been inhaling dust
working the sores on our hands
once again.
Once again I hear the song.
The melody that makes my spine shiver as if
I was standing in a bitter bliazzard.
I bite my teeth hard
not wanting to go to sleep
not wanting to deal with another day of doubt.
We live in this world of paper
and bodies
and words
and wonder why it is people wish for death.
I can feel the cold on my toes up
to my ears and the hug
of the blanket can't reach either.
It's not the sun I'm missing
its the joy
the carelessness
the smiles.
I hate this dark and cold and dust.
Times like this I wish I liked
alcohol
so I could get drunk
recite Bukowski
and sleep an unwanted sleep.
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from the archives, sorry if things are spelled wrong