This tiny room is dark hell.
Ashtrays hold hills of butts.
I feel the smell of smoke.
And smell the flow of motion;
long sounds of cars outside
make brown shadows
move across the dingy walls.
I am staring at loves face.
I am as real as you.
I look over the bump on your nose.
Nothing has changed.
No match flame in my eyes.
Vita Nu Ova! No! No!
A dead world inside and out.
And this agony of mortal pain
with no release too much to bare.
When love is only a word…
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