4walls, home.

skecth6Dull room. Nicotine ceiling
like a sun baked sky.
i is laced with poison .
Trapped.

The looks I gets off strangers & friend are sour. Bite.
i gives a nostalgic look to past company kept dear
to i.

i is frozen in photo albums.
i receives glances from a person,
from no person. Glass compassion.

I feels
alien to the other. Any non-lover,
any wanna be friend
Life i acts out. Dead in front of the television.
sensationalism numbs with
an ill feeling blowing through the cracks in my soul.
Cold. Stiff. i in neutral drive.
No emotion. No reason. Death media.

The books i have read said everything i knew,
lies of the deceased.
Dead lessons.
I is not a corpse.
I is in a morgue home.
Built from his own
self and health.

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