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Thomas C Sep 2019
Tiptoe.
Heel to sole.
Closer and warmer.
Tongue against palate.
Tongue against teeth.
Air slips in between lips...
word for word.
Mumbling and muttering…
Hands are shaken.
Heads are nodding.
Backs are bending.
Tiptoe.
Sole to heel.
Distant and cold.
Alvira Perdita May 2018
wake up, brush teeth, get dressed
make coffee, pack, double check.
the same routine every day,
the same day played out yet again.

the same email to the same type
of people who i know aren't going
to make a purchase. the same answers
to all the same questions.

going home at the same time,
to the same place i hate, thinking
all the same thoughts, wondering,
wondering,
wondering.

if this is 'life', maybe i'm not cut
out for it.
"reality is a place i would hate to live."

— The End —