Warmth - Poem
July 27th 2009 16:51
You want me to quit shaking.
But there isn't anything for me in the warmth.
I'm cold, I'm shirtless, I'm bare.
and I'm not completely sure whether it's winter or summer.
I guess seasons don't matter when time is an inverted image.
and when the inversion isn't good enough anymore,
nothing seems to matter.
Then again, nothing ever mattered when it was warm, either.

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