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Archive for September, 2018

How Low

If I speak with a hunger
instead of being full,
can I bring you to my side,
will you begin to feel the pull?

Rhythm is clunky
late into the night
when the brain’s a bit slower
in its reaction time.

The carpet is sand,
and I’m sinking in its depths.
I do this every night,
and I’ve died a million deaths.

There was so much time.
Where did it go?
I pissed it away,
but at least I got blown.

The hum of the fridge,
and that slight, constant clatter.
I could find it scary,
but it wouldn’t even matter.

My imagination
got the best and worst of me,
and now I’m stuck in limbo
for all eternity.

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