I speak candidly off the record to those who ask.

when it comes time for petty own thoughts, But.

Why does a person live a life, without living their life?

My stomach twists and flops with obligatory anxieties, living life unfulfilled creates nothing but a desire to be killed.

The 30 second-intervals of the smoke detector beeps

Squeezing myself out of the egg, and we're off

Five minutes is all it takes, then I'm up on a broken-boarded bed.

I think about nothing, and everything - desires to sing, endless dreams far-removed from these waning streams

One morning, or afternoon - a guiltless charles' the only to know

The egg will crack, in a cold-empty room

And, then through; no longer a-chiefed

One step toward the moon, finally allowing the lovers swoon, and all before the stroke of noon.


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