Eschatologist
Drove past you the other day
You looked dead.
Slouched in your seat
Your Miata
And I felt nothing
But here I am writing about it
instead of calling you
to ask about it
Because I take these things for Me.
I wear your pain, and can't bother
to thank you for it.
Voyeur...
vampire
not so different from everyone else
who's waiting and watching for it all
to just...
*poof*
Posted by Hans Andersen
|
at
10:54 AM
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