Sunday, August 28, 2011

never moved an inch

I don't feel good. Just like I knew that I would now.
Disenchantment is getting old.
I try to open it, but that lets in the cold.
I went along for the ride. 
Miles before me, miles behind me. None of them calculated, or free.
I'm done waiting wanting wishing, I don't care why.
I'm tired.
I've had enough.

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