Wednesday, April 25, 2012


Its tacking.  
It creaks.
It’s soft.
I feel disgust and I’m freezing very fast.
I look around to see who it is.
I can smell a disgust smell, and been sad because I think on my grandfather.
Fresh and nice. Bitter.
Like flowers and grass
My grandfather’s voice.
Lump in my throat.
I wish I could sleep a little bit longer.

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