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always woke up with nothing to say to her not a thing. we slept in rooms separate, but she would bust in on me, occasionally, to have an occasion, never knocking, just door pounding, just to annoy, just to see if I still cared, hoping to revoke what passed for pseudo-serenity. some times entireties would pass before you had the energies to swing your legs over the side of the day~bed, conceding, white flag surrendering, losing the commencing-avoidance of the start-of-the-day battle of pseudo-existence. hoping against hope you don't meet, hoping against hope she doesn't say accidentally, good morning. so you don't have to Lincoln~Douglas debate, aerate, concentrate, orate, how to answer without bitterness intended to maim. knowing you could not e'er possess a good morning, day, night, by definition, by ruling of the gods in charge of never. sometimes you made it out of the apartment that had no ingress, only egress, happy happy no converse. used to go to a Barnes & Noble, get a refillable endless Starbucks, from open to closing. read all day, sitting with strangers, till my **** hurt so bad, didn't think I could walk again. now and then, smiled at the ladies, tho nothing could come of it, nothing ever did. she never asked me where I egressed too. didn't care, that was better for sanitizing my pseudo-sanity. came home cautiously, door opening silently in case I was home prematurely, she still there. sometimes you wake up with nothing to say to yourself. that is even worse, cause the meaning clear, breaking point is near. have a picture of me from those days. a cellphone photo I took myself, of course. serious, bearded, short haired, red eyed, unfiltered. Sometimes I think I will banner it, so you can tap into a part of me that words just cannot do injustice to, more than was already done. here, while composing, I fell asleep. tired? maybe.  maybe, sometimes you just don't want to remember.
0
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 11:46 AM UTC
Always woke up with nothing to say to her
always woke up with nothing to say to her not a thing. we slept in rooms separate, but she would bust in on me, occasionally, to have an occasion, never knocking, just door pounding, just to annoy, just to see if I still cared, hoping to revoke what passed for pseudo-serenity. some times entireties would pass before you had the energies to swing your legs over the side of the day~bed, conceding, white flag surrendering, losing the commencing-avoidance of the start-of-the-day battle of pseudo-existence. hoping against hope you don't meet, hoping against hope she doesn't say accidentally, good morning. so you don't have to Lincoln~Douglas debate, aerate, concentrate, orate, how to answer without bitterness intended to maim. knowing you could not e'er possess a good morning, day, night, by definition, by ruling of the gods in charge of never. sometimes you made it out of the apartment that had no ingress, only egress, happy happy no converse. used to go to a Barnes & Noble, get a refillable endless Starbucks, from open to closing. read all day, sitting with strangers, till my **** hurt so bad, didn't think I could walk again. now and then, smiled at the ladies, tho nothing could come of it, nothing ever did. she never asked me where I egressed too. didn't care, that was better for sanitizing my pseudo-sanity. came home cautiously, door opening silently in case I was home prematurely, she still there. sometimes you wake up with nothing to say to yourself. that is even worse, cause the meaning clear, breaking point is near. have a picture of me from those days. a cellphone photo I took myself, of course. serious, bearded, short haired, red eyed, unfiltered. Sometimes I think I will banner it, so you can tap into a part of me that words just cannot do injustice to, more than was already done. here, while composing, I fell asleep. tired? maybe.  maybe, sometimes you just don't want to remember.
nat-lipstadt
Written by
99/M/NYC/Lippstadt/Kraków
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 11:46 AM UTC
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