A full moon, a bright morning.

This time i don’t take a drink for new beginnings i let it roll over me like waves.

I catch the ocean by the tail and tell it to utter not a lie.

You sleep days and wake at night like vampires.

I wear garlic to sleep.

Then everything is shaken

an ant farm in the hands of a twelve year old.

You swear to me its truth and i call it cussing.

I am a false representation of myself.

finally its over.

~ by Aumbeche Rishi on January 4, 2007.

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