i think my friends forget
i live in the green and wet
i crawl back home, on all fours
i lean on the cubicle door
i sit on the back of the couch
looking straight at the roof
willing tears to drain back into their sockets
and pollute everything inside
always on the periphery,
i dance on the outline
of so many relationships
feeling sorry for myself
eating chocolate with a spoon.
sometimes when i'm driving home
i want to drive off the road
consider it
ahh
then no
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