in my slurry voice, i sing you songs hoping you'll remember me when i am gone. this dead tree, chopped, broken, beaten, painted: my bed must be tired of my body. it's been months. hope is quite a dead thing. look at me. look at me. look at the weight of the breaths this thing beside my bed shoves into my body. don't you see it's more tired than i am? you're sleepless. but look how you smile, wistfully; you know it. i know it. but still i am. i am as in i exist. #ramonasongs#pain #death #inevitable #bedridden #fragile #sadlittlepoemsbyr
