getting up
walking in this halls
like a zombie
lost in the middle of the furniture
like dust
in the house of a stranger
one of many
going away
lost in the world
without a home
to call my own
smoking a cigarette
and searching for somebody new
YOU ARE READING
encore en vie
Puisithe fantastic never seemed so common, the beautiful has never been more equal, life has never been more ordinary, and I've never been so confused, so I wrote.
