the days are so fucking packed and long

these three guys were walking down the hall

yesterday, and the fat one saw the candy machine and said

"SWEET! A VENDING MACHINE!"

i laughed out loud while looking straight at him

heartless and thoughtless and cruel

i've felt like i'm choking for the past three days

not a sore throat, but like something is lodged in there

it's hard to breathe, and really hard to swallow

there's no room

i'd go to a doctor, but i'm afraid is psychosomatic

and i hate doctors

the only thing that we really care about now is making music

even if it's badly and no one hears it

there are worms living in my body

i can feel them squirm

you can probably feel them in yours, too

they shouldn't bother us though

any more than the blood in us does

i see grown men all day who are deathly afraid of life, still, after so much of it

they want so badly for things to go as they imagine and can understand

you can hear the desperation in their voices

the wild hoping that things can go on just a little bit longer without falling apart

or just a little bit longer without any evidence that they might already be

they talk too loud, and smile too much,

and squint

so their eyes don't look so big and sad and filled with fear

Moi, j'avais jamais rien dit. Rien

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