squint i can hear through doors
the whispers are illegal
the pills shake into his hand
lying flat on the expression "palm"
I have shut the doors to
keep the waking reality away
and in between
in our living room
i am molding my own perception
a constant awareness
growing vague and dull
at its edges
rough torn parchment of my reality.
they trade medicine
or thats what it really is
money and drugs...
to support ourselves
on this delicate membrane
we scatter footsteps upon.
our lives are a lot like
where we have to become
other chemicals
to feel balanced
on our constant tight rope
phil today 020729
what's it to you?
who go