One voice inside to another says "I've got

more problems than us both". But that's

so sick to call life a problem that has its needs

and needs to be solved. she thinks it over

while her satin black mane waves perfectly

over one eye. she sits cross-legged doubled

over as if she's clutching a child waiting to die.

Is it worth it? If you want to find peace at the

end of the road I promise I'll be there. Her

heart has no bearing a weak sense of

directions and things take too long to register.

Listen to regrets, at long last she's released

his love. And the front door haunts her.




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