here i lay in the swallows of an unmade bed
amended from the warnings of an empty dusk recovery
no averted dreams
scarce repression
days stretch as far as my mind wanders
hovering manic distress like drum passages and
carefully plucked fingerings
from the lo-fi passengers in my head
whispering the decay of quiet
as resonance fills the air
and slits of sun specks devour the dark
i prefer my free time kept away
from the troubles of hapless screws
and trivial dull spurts
but the gems of solitarily intended calm
become inevitable casualties of emotional restraint
i need to see. people being seen.
i need to drink.
to remind me to enjoy silence and seeping alone.
too much time with mirrors, only cast shadowy followers
forcefully revolving doors, that whirlwind with circulation
constantly late to the dinner party,
perfectly content with standstill while in lieu of,
only later to regret the void of circumstance.
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