quarta-feira, 28 de julho de 2010

Sleep.

She lied there.
There was no man. There was no light. There was no karma.
She lied there for weeks and weeks.
But nothing came.
There was no dreams. There was no wish.
It was just her, lying there.
On the bed, on the couch and on the wooden floor.
She would lie wherever her weak muscles would let her flow.
There was no hope. There was no life.
There was just her, naked, dead, choked.
She lied there, for ever more.

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