Been fighting against the heavy waiting in my shoulders, it’s really hard to stand up tall nowadays when I have to worry if sun will ever rise, if it will pick up the phone and dial the correct numbers to open the door straight upon my eyes.

I’m sitting there in the hall, around a table in a chair that holds me while I listen to the silly conversations they have to talk, my eyes slip off sleep and sickness shoots in its own way around my veins for the moderate alcoholized-wine consumption, the heavy smoke-staining of my lungs and it wasn’t darkening at all this time, mid-noon light’s making me feel short in time as the time passes and I feel it’s 4:00 pm.

This ambiguous feeling ingeniously escapes from me, clouds my sight towards you and this homogeneous mixture of thoughts travels ‘round my mind, I feel the nausea as I drink the coffee, notoriously swirling in the current of the windy day, spinning in zig-zag for the past uproar event that took place beneath a starry sky of an in-comprehensive cubic form. I sense the aroma of the plastic-liquid blank bottle of someone who is affluent as I get shot to outer space so lovingly floating in liquid hibernation but this time I’ll have to go, I shout – help.

Imminently, einen tag, filled up of colorful high-up above stream. Such a guten tag that I keep writing & dreaming, crying and cheering as I celebrate with awful joy, and a zippo lighter for all it’s worth.

Past the day, I start to feel uneasy, leisure pace has drowned all the joy I had in mind. I succumb to the sofá, wishing it’ll fill the need.

How can this shatter my volatile mind?

Intangible.

I wrinkle my eyes as I’ve came with lousy solutions to an overwhelmed life. The opaque light has ignited the sky again and I can sense the desperation of both my feet as they start to move esoterically around the floor, a dance of the nervous and a dance of the diligent.

The sun starts reciprocating with darkness and gives it a few hours of full-length reign, suddenly, the day is over.

And those people I used to call my friends are talking to me again, I cried over them when they were gone and now they despite the fact I’ve changed and became stronger. I’m quite sure they must be arithmetic men; they add trouble, substract pleasure, divide attention and multiply ignorance. Their birth certificate is surely an apology to the condomn factory.

Suddenly the day finishes with a hollow, absentia.

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