wp-1464172642309.jpegMy cold hands once again
clutch the bodice of a pen
& my lips welcome chilled brown.

My feet wet through holes under shoe
& my loose coins
rattle around within the bags under my eyes
that cannot mask
or disguise


I lose sight
of that period from when
afternoon becomes night;
From when starvation
becomes cigarettes.
Quash the need,
stave off the… necessity…

Fight to live;
to breathe…


I’ve met head on upon a long walk up the hill.
Foregoing a snapped up ride
I sit shaking.

Mistaking my shadow for a friend,
In the end, its just me on this journey.

I fret as to how I will sustain.

To not complain
And to explain this skeleton coated in skin.

2 thoughts on “Replican’t

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