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Oct 2017
There is an absence.
It's killing me to say this:
I miss you.
I can't believe I haven't evaporated,
now that you've gone.
State lines and power lines,
One less alarm
and it is so ******* hard to get up
in the morning.
It's numbers, every day.
You know?
Arbitrary numbers that somehow
we've allowed to have an effect on our lives.
How did we do this?
How did we become this?
You worry about it too, right?
God, it's an illustration in futility.
I can't think.
I don't want to think.
To recall.
I don't.
I just don't.
You know how I am.
I can only barely live with myself, you know.
Don't know why I expected...
**** it.
Let's burn down tomorrow.
Let's set fire to it.
We can count the broken days
from birth to graves
and revel in it.
But, you know how I break apart.
How I go to pieces.
You left before that.
It was just me.
Written by
Paul Glottaman
   --- and Dazed Dreaming
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