Mar 10, 2010


Now that the windows are crackling
now that the cats are meowing
the phonebooth stays unvisited
only brochures of hookers and trash inhabit its ever exchanging square
we are stilted behind our windowshields
like these low payed prostitutes of the brochures
visionless eyes
waiting for the wind to blow our hair
and tear down these walls
where our fears breed in

Afraid to leave our place in case the electricity might cut off
the television might close
our empty lives we'll turn black and white again
and the only friends we ever had
visionless eyes
interrupted only by the commercials
will get more things to do
rather than staring at the ceiling
waiting for it to fall
on our heads.

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