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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=494137" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Drag</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=494137" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">conversations at night<br>when you cannot sleep<br>arrive at a drag, not like<br>the one we had nights and<br>nights before<br>when we still do not know<br>much about each other<br>our bodies and <br>pasts, our way of projecting<br>ourselves to a certain future, <br>we begin to search for<br>the meaning of a present<br>and i realize <br>there is nothing much to <br>meaning, just a drag, to let<br>the hours pass, without killing us<br>neither tickling us, <br>boredom works full time<br>and we do not ask when will<br>this last. we are the experienced<br>class, the category that asks no <br>more, because we think we know<br>for sure, we think we already know<br>what we do not.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a></strong></div>

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