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Tuesday, May 05, 2009

groan

I am a lump of lard
scratch-wounds all over
scalp in flakes
immobile, creaking

I don't feel like talking
replying messages etc.
social how-do-you-dos
tire me before I start

Teleconnectivity alienates
I sink into my books
and moon around in silence
sleeping or sleepless

I want to be alone
and rest forever
be still my nervy heart
don't die in lard.