Monday, May 1, 2017


always these same number of eyes
      this same old progression of time
this linear push to the edge;
      unlike how I dreamt
last night I was walking
back to the start
      and witnessed for myself
my own shadow
      start back opposite
from leaving my room
I had yet to enter
      yet to conceive of a reason
to be going
      so that when I awoke
a wiped the sweat from body
      I was unsure whether
I had just left
or recently returned;
      always it's as meaningless
as the first line
      words read in the dark
dilated pupils
      beginning to end

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