Tuesday, March 1, 2011


my eyes adjust, and my throat is dry

both parched,

transitioning from Oases to reality, I awake to this desert

a home without happiness,

and a job thats out to kill,

yet I work at both

to be here, in this room I cough

I cough so that I may breathe

the trade is not fair

to go from shapeless water to cup full of sand

to be here, so far from my dreams

life goes round circle

I will dream again these happy thoughts

but until then I will drink this water

Oases make trade possible

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