It's bitter. Not freezing just bitter. I bit my tears and keep on keeping on. Faces passing don't look, we are all well trained to glance away from hurt and confusion and pain.
Trapped is a hard word, two P's and a D. It smells like sweaty bulges of people and dirty money and cleaning supplies. Everyone here thinks they're in paradise, call it Eden if you like. But everyone here is running from something, reality most of all. And so this is my reality, a make believe world with words like "luxurious" and "relaxing." We are all really just begging for human contact.
Put your arm around me. Pull me into an embrace. Lovingly slip a kitchen knife into my heart.
34th and Lexington
15 years ago
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