Saturday, April 30, 2016

chinese torture

in my bed
staring at the ceiling
there is a crack, like a thunderbolt
and some of the plaster is peeling
a stray drop
makes it way through
just hanging by a feeling
it races across the ceiling
becoming one with the crack
till it's right on top of me
it hangs there
like suspense of a mid-season episode
like a relationship at the brink of something
teeter-totter like a patient at the edge of coma
it drops
oh how it drops
right in the middle of my forehead
as i lie still
and watch more drops
make their way to
torture me
why can't i move?
why am i stuck in this bed?
tied with silly string
why do i think about these things?

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