Monday, 27 October 2008

what time is it

His mouth,like an earth cavity.He dreams of ben-hurian dreams.Stillness.White curtains separating bodies.His hand:warm.Skin color:ok.
"What is this smell?-the surgery room" like burning flesh.At the end of the corridor, a windowpane cutting the road traffic and a crane, working silently and consistently.
The outside invades him through tubes and needles.Him, he resides behind his eyelids, below his brain, deep inside his chest.I see his little home depicted on the surveillance monitor.

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