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dead weight
Chapped lips, clammy feet
The scratchy blanket keeps me cold
On days like these I find it hard to remember myself
The comfort of routine, a fr ag me n t
A life of meaning, an
afterthought
Movies to watch and books to read pass me by
A thin film over my mind
Makes me forget hours and days
Until I'm left with the painful dryness of Now
Eyes burned by bright light
Mind numb from quick pleasure
Not craving food, only wanting to disappear
Soft hums brush my ear
Movement, gust of wind, parents
A deep breath to keep myself from suffocating
Senses muddled and drifting
To the nearest source of action
Outside my window, a bird’s call! keeps me alive
My wrist can’t keep writing
Poetic words esca ping
Sur rende r to th e u n forgivable Y O U
There is nothing poetic left.
The death of everything is mostly quiet.
I sink into my pillows, a dead weight.
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