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The inconvenience
Of death
Is suddenness.

Sun rose late

Mid-winter

Yet rose she did
And bloom into breath

Once again
Did we
It's as if you have pressed pause
and you're not really certain if you will ever unpause...
You're hazy and dazy, it's hard to make any decisions.
You're convinced you're actually doing something and then when you sober up you realize the day has passed, unused...literally nothing was done.

A waste.
Wasting away.

But it has given me a light...
Now when I'm sober I realize how beautiful life is and how dark opiates are.
Of all the places
she sought to hide
She only found one
safe place inside
in dancing images
where the poetry
resides.

— The End —