good afternoon, all sideways stepping

oh, but a want to be delivered to the skies. oh, but a sinking in my stomach, I sigh and count down the minutes until the next hour comes so I can go smoke and fill up my lungs with pieces of filth and tar all holed up. i cannot breathe; i cannot. and yet i sit here breathing and it’s all the same.

with a will to be drifting to far away lands or just in your mind as you examine your hands like looking down’s not what persuades you to stand with your head held high and the sun an open door invitation to the afternoon. it is now that i’m wasted. it is here that i’m blue.

look out of your window and see the lake shimmering grey beneath a clouded up sky and a stealth hunter’s way toward its prey. know not what is killing. know only the day’s simple grace.

and sway.

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