Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Tell Me How It Is

This is the part where I retreat,
No saliva left to wet 
A saddened mouth,
Dried to infinity
The soul weeps gently,
Quietly,
For no one to hear,
Keys slamming on the floor
Heard in the distance cry,
In harmony with the microwave
Signaling the completion heating food
Hunger has left long ago,
So the soup stays as is,
A beep signals sanity
And then it is gone;
Lips stay dry and cracked
The mark of dehydration,
It weighs heavily 
Yet not a care
For all is lost 
In the mind. 

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