Saturday, February 07, 2009

In class
two is a safe number.
Three, laughter. Back row seats.
One goes smoke and never comes back.
"Actually I think..."
"And adding on to that, I think..."
"But I think..."
"On surface level, at first glance,
the fact that she's
self-consciously
self-reflexive..."
"I mean, look at the way she falls!"
Look,
at the way
she
falls.
"We are concerned..."
Yes, we are. Concerned.
Words fall.
Hair falls, heads bent.
Pencils fall, coloured pens.
Light falls. Light in eyes fall.
Passing shadows. Fake friends.
Oh I want out.
I want out so bad.

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