Sunday, September 28, 2008

Living Death

When I am asleep
.
The day is clouded with a dirty grey.
I am running,
but I am not moving.
The lanes are empty and silent.
Yet ghosts occupy every corner.
I am screaming,
but my lips remain silent.
.
.
.
When I am awake
.
No wind blows through my hair.
I see it not,
I feel it not.
No leaves rustle as they fall to the ground.
I see it not,
I hear it not.
You lay your eyes on me,
but you see me not,
you feel me not,'
you hear me not.

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