I'm waiting for something, a change, a crash, a sudden urge to remove my teeth but nothing is happening, not even the smell of my shampoo. There is a blankness to this time, an inability to think further forward than an hour and I'm wondering if this is a facsimile of suburban bliss with my television and broccoli and an absence of intrusion.
I'll turn in my sleep tonight, you can remember how I washed the dishes. I'll turn in my sleep tonight, sliding knee and hip before shoulder. I won't remember the pattern of my breathing.
I'll turn in my sleep tonight, you can remember how I washed the dishes. I'll turn in my sleep tonight, sliding knee and hip before shoulder. I won't remember the pattern of my breathing.
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