what an awful
/ typical paradox
that the weeks I'm in my own place
I'm 'coping', yet at yours I
love for two days
and then
forget myself, for you, I
reduce like some sad atom
and you, in our opposites
supposedly love me
there but
suffer the distance
the minute I am gone
just be here
just be
be here
You know I'd share
all of it.
and to make matters worse
(here comes the self-pity)
the words have fallen out of me
I've fallen out of myself
out of my body
my head
my eyes have fallen out
all fell out when I fell
(or seemingly so - maybe that's another
blame trick...)
and back up again -
again
there's no time to back up
back up, but
I forgot
how to
walk
trying to love backwards
across, over, out
I'm all out -
I'm all out.
I'm all out
but not finished
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