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You stick in my throat like something I long to say and send a sickness sinking through me. Then I gulp, gargle and rinse you down my gullet like I used to do with my carrots. With nothing you fill me so full I could burst. But nothing ever happens; nothing at all. Colours drain from everything around me as If they’ve gotten bored of trying. Night turns in, morning falls back asleep, and each moment moans like a teenager. But I still remember her perfume, though it’s fading like a car over the hill. I still remember the backcourts when boredom used to bang and bounce a ball. I still remember the scraped knees, the first drink, the first joint, the first stolen kiss. I still remember it all. The memories jump start me into action. And then I look at the clock. And you remind me that it’s too late, and that we will try again tomorrow.
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Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 1:02 PM UTC
Benzo & I
You stick in my throat like something I long to say and send a sickness sinking through me. Then I gulp, gargle and rinse you down my gullet like I used to do with my carrots. With nothing you fill me so full I could burst. But nothing ever happens; nothing at all. Colours drain from everything around me as If they’ve gotten bored of trying. Night turns in, morning falls back asleep, and each moment moans like a teenager. But I still remember her perfume, though it’s fading like a car over the hill. I still remember the backcourts when boredom used to bang and bounce a ball. I still remember the scraped knees, the first drink, the first joint, the first stolen kiss. I still remember it all. The memories jump start me into action. And then I look at the clock. And you remind me that it’s too late, and that we will try again tomorrow.
c-j-baxter
Written by
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 1:02 PM UTC
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