Friday, April 30, 2010

Poison Control

Enclosed in walls
I breathe shampooed air
Through the melted sand I see,
A magician crying impure tears.

With a switch of a button
I condition my breath
The air becomes so decreased
The magician cries more.

While we sleep in comfort
When it is summers outside
We can’t see the trees sway sometimes.

Instead,
We drill windows with curtains
The magicians die while we’re still alive.

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