A little hazy those that past by, no sleeping, no eating, just running, high. Encouraged to turn off so that I won't wake but my clock is still ticking-- still not even half way. Blast it all, the countdown is too long. I'll fall asleep while waiting to fall asleep in the fall. A man in a cocktail dress, a woman peeing in the urinals. Patronage to estranged relatives at their funerals. Children counting toes hanging from their window panes. I'm really trying too hard in sounding insane. In need of an excuse, need a break. No matter how beautiful the numbers it never fails to stir a heart quake. Those big black blocked stalks with sharpened daggers countdown to my life and death with bittersweet chatter. Come, let's have some tea and sit on this matter. Do you like yours strong or decaffeinated, while strangers blabber? Just sit on it and watch it on standby. They say it goes slower that way, but who're they to say who am I? who I am? Am I who? I am who? I figure I'm a fool. Figure, who are you?
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