Fobika!
01/27/04, 07:59 PM
PAPYRUS GARMENTS DISREGARDING INWARD BRUISE
Did you hear the fires over behind the hospital? And care?
Well, I don't really either.
I was headed for the hospital. Into the disorderly line of public.
Faces for trauma and harm, But I went right through. Through the sick, pale doors. I was pass the entrance.
By single looks. The expressions on the board.
I nearly swallowed my tongue.
And I hadn't the clue to remember
what I was told to write down on
my slip of note. That pale slice
of paper. How was I supposed to
understand; to acknowledge that I
wasn't able to let my voice come up.
Some woman asked one of the lunatics.
Out with it, sir. Please hand it to me. Don't you ever listen? And in the distorted fingers he revealed.
Outrage and evil, can vicing hold it,
for the tightly clenched molars bit themselves.
I was put in the white that held almost no color. And how was I supposed to see? I could not, so I did not.
There is usually that point that one passes into the white. And I passed right by the pale doors.
The thin clothing to keep from the process of sweating. Matching the lightness, when I stood to face myself.
No help to keep the blood from rising up to my already wounded tongue.
It wasn't until I noticed the serum,
did I realize what I had swallowed.
Did you hear the fires over behind the hospital? And care?
Well, I don't really either.
I was headed for the hospital. Into the disorderly line of public.
Faces for trauma and harm, But I went right through. Through the sick, pale doors. I was pass the entrance.
By single looks. The expressions on the board.
I nearly swallowed my tongue.
And I hadn't the clue to remember
what I was told to write down on
my slip of note. That pale slice
of paper. How was I supposed to
understand; to acknowledge that I
wasn't able to let my voice come up.
Some woman asked one of the lunatics.
Out with it, sir. Please hand it to me. Don't you ever listen? And in the distorted fingers he revealed.
Outrage and evil, can vicing hold it,
for the tightly clenched molars bit themselves.
I was put in the white that held almost no color. And how was I supposed to see? I could not, so I did not.
There is usually that point that one passes into the white. And I passed right by the pale doors.
The thin clothing to keep from the process of sweating. Matching the lightness, when I stood to face myself.
No help to keep the blood from rising up to my already wounded tongue.
It wasn't until I noticed the serum,
did I realize what I had swallowed.