there's a lake
in the woods
where fish come to drown,
disposable lovers come to consummate,
and hopes come to die.
here i sit,
cigarette burning my fingers,
thinking of you.
your withering figure is pulling at me
from my depths
and i do not follow.
i do not care anymore.
where once we dove into
an ever pulsing crowd,
carving our way in the flesh of the world.
now,
i drift in all directions at once, alone.

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