Thursday, August 21, 2008


(this poem is deliberately being put on the wrong date, to preserve my anonymity.)

lying in bed, all alone
trying to reach a friend on the phone
seems in lonely darkness i'll roam
cuz they're all simply not available or home
it's doomsday, my body's reaction's to groan
i try to quiet the inevitable moans
the prickling and tickling my skin and my bones
like i'm being run over with a fine toothed comb
and with with a needle and thread i'm being sewn
my body's being taken over, no longer my own
the pains won't stop with ice cream cones
or stretching and tugging on a piece of foam
as though the pain is set in stone...
will somebody, anybody soon be home,
and comfort me, tonight, over the phone?

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