Untitled
©Febuary 1998 by annacandy

caress my intellect with truth.
she never noticed my eyes dancing with their shadows.
perhaps she never cared.
only these things should i remember now, and yet my head is filled to its content.
i am surrounded once again by this distant monoxide, riddling me with
realities of old; memories in a tooth brush.
i succumb to you all.
i become what she wants me to become.
i am dead.