How can she play my mind like a childs top spinning around in the weighted air, drunk upon the silent and dark smile covering her lips with my dead hopes of freedom:

The blanket that now tenses chocking more life from me in my chair, no longer moving in the tense air:

She stood alone in the doorway of that room wanting to speak...

She stood alone in the doorway
of that room, wanting to speak, but daring not to break the blanketed silence that which has become drunk on the motionless bodies:

My mind has become lost in the hazing of that early morning, rocking in the old chair thinking deeply of the night before, the night when my realization of self came:

To go back to the night before the last when I slept a dreamful state I would do anything to go back, before I discovered how my body quakes with fear at eveything I  come to learn:
Silent Air
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