the pages
of books
for most of my life,
the ink
runs down my chin,
my hands
are stained
from the print.
my eyes are bloodshot
from reading and yet
i'm still hungry.
i'm never full.
the librarian
tries to keep me
away, calling for help,
but it's too
late,
i'm at it again,
my head deep into
the next book,
feeding
on the thoughts of others.
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