the air is heavy with damp wood and stale smells. i don't want to open the windows, it smells like death, and i'm waiting. waiting, waiting, waiting, a pink popstar bicycle is lying dusty where no one cares to go, and it's waiting, waiting, waiting, a skinless thing looks at me? like me? is it me? i don't know if i'm dead already. interpretations? #ramona #sadlittlepoemsbyr
