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"A great poet, a really great poet, is the most unpoetical of all creatures." The Picture of Dorian Gray

Saturday, September 11, 2010

day: fifty-five: you aren't what i need...

i refuse to be sad
for more than three days at a time

because three days
is just enough
to go through the motions
of the depression
that sits inside my rib cage

in three days
i manage to
sleep too much
cry too much
frown when i'm alone
drown when i'm alone
by day three i need you
then it's gone
it passes on the third night
i sleep and that animalistic desire
to talk to you
that has become embedded in my brain
it vanishes...
and i am okay
when the sun comes up
there is a hope in my soul again.

and i smile.
because i have it wired into my brain
to look for a companion
sometimes i just want yours
even though i know its not what i need.

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