Monday, 23 February 2009

memories make movies

drunk in my room - and cold as well -
i hide from the moon that sits behind the curtains.
hero worship at this age was never my idea,
but still my shoulders shake - from temperature, in awe -
because you saw more than i could ever see, have ever seen, will ever be.
don't wake me up from this pathetic dream.
don't call me names that i'm unfit to be.
don't run away from everything that i failed more than you to see.
the vodka makes night darker,
makes teeth clatter in the inside breeze,
makes hidden thoughts reveal themselves too real - and then to reel.
memories make movies,
but the kind always forgotten,
like the morning after the night your parents die.
better off alone and sworn to secrecy.
cry yourself to sleep to childlike lullabies.

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