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Neil Oct 2011
In this room he must wait,
time is standing still.
The lonely sound of a heartbeat,
ventricles overfill.

The hairs, the pores, the open sores,
where am I, who am I, where do I belong.
Moments ago his mind was active,
but the echoes of silence are holding him captive.

His first mistake,
has sealed his fate.
He counts the years,
from the sound he hears.

In this room he must wait,
time has stood still.
Neil Jan 2012
To read and write,
listen and speak.
C.S Lewis understood,
we read to know that
we are not alone.
Define Fiction?
Bukowski set em straight,
Fiction is an improvement on life.
There is no money in poetry,
But then there's no poetry in money,
Either.
Without it though,
Without     them.
Nothing.

— The End —