Saturday, May 2, 2009

She's Sick # Two (2)/ Perfect

Dead eyed in the blackout they made you
They conspired to kill you
You used to come to bed with
Fevered eyes 
And tell me about Christ
And the Tree
But now you swallow huge yellow seagulls
Loud angry pills
They bring louder silence
Silent sadness
No more singing, or smoking
At the piano on a Sunday morning

You're just a shell now
I loved you more, before the medication

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