Is there anything left for me?
or is it just the detritus of the day
waiting for the garbage collecter?
A singular silence alone knows my name,
but somehow decides to remain mum.
Around and around,
down a bottle,
slippery slope-slide down this way.
My own snore stills the fan,
leaving me to reflect on dreams
that could have been mine.
or is it just the detritus of the day
waiting for the garbage collecter?
A singular silence alone knows my name,
but somehow decides to remain mum.
Around and around,
down a bottle,
slippery slope-slide down this way.
My own snore stills the fan,
leaving me to reflect on dreams
that could have been mine.
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