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06 March 2009 @ 11:37 pm
Prose #1  


I hide behind the headphones, big and black as they cover up my ears, though the music is long dead now, nothing's coming through the foam. I want to cry, want to let the tears fall, but I know if I do you'll just yell, scream at me until I'm hyperventilating behind a closed door. So I hide; I pull them over my ears like a security blanket and hide in the silence. I feel my eyes well up as you continue to speak, thinking my precious garbage is flowing through my ears, bringing me to my safe haven, but it's not; the battery has long since died and I can't seem to feel that, maybe so have I.



 
 
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