Tuesday, 25 January 2011


Scars of light when I
Close my eyes
Thin stripes cut in
Flickering darkness
Hands shaking while
My breath slowly stops

Scars of the heat while
Wasting my time
On glittery reflections on
Mysterious nights
Bathed in scents
Of resin and smoke

Sometimes you can be too tired to sleep or too bored to do anything about it. I'm neither, and both. I don't know, don't know. //Amanda

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