i’m staring into myself,
in the reflection of a downtown train.
the day’s collapsed on itself,
disappointed that we’ve
run out of things to say.
my senses dull from lack of bloodflow
in my paralyzed parts.
i'm sustaining damage from the
breaks in heartbeats
that got this whole thing started
but now it's your sweater that's in my bed
i wrap myself in its discontinous threads
and feel the cold air as it moves through
the holes in your sleeve, like the ease
with which you forget me.
i have a half life of a month and a half,
i'll be out of your system before this
season has past. they'll be
disappointing amounts of me to consume
before you
get the high that you're used to
before you,
get the high that you're used to.
and now it's your sweater that's in my bed
i wrap myself in its discontinuous threads
and feel the cold air as it moves
through the holes in your sleeve, like the ease
with which you forget me
your words have turned out like the map on my wall
they're filled with names and places that mean nothing at all
they don't mean anything at all.
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