October, 2008

(archives)

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– brianprince

i’m paranoid. every time i’m here.
i hear.
noises behind me. doors opening.
you’re near.
i turn.
break my neck. and nothing.
it’s merely a
sound that’s unrelated to my
surroundings. my
immediate foundry. it’s other.
another. anything. but of the
street sweepers and construction
workers out the front
window.

the air conditioning clicks
of the neighbor’s
sends my lights
into a flicker.

i’m paranoid.

that’s why i have a pen name. amber
boch told me to take another pill. expired
vicodin isn’t solving any
thing.
only creating an itchy throat. in combi-
nation.
with the weather that’s changing. it’s allergies
again.

i’m paranoid.

didn’t you hear me.

i’m tired of all the
false noises.
shadows.
that are not really near. so please
see. that, finally,
once.
and for all,
i want you

to be
real.